University  of  Calif ornia  -  Berkeley 


Indian  Legends 

and  Other  Poems 

BY    JOHN     A.    BUCHANAN 


SOUVENIR  EDITION 

ofthe 

LEWIS  AND  CLARK  FAIR 


WLJfjitakrr  &  Kap  Company 

(INCORPORATED) 

PUBLISHERS 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL. 

i  905 


10027 


Copyright  1905 

by 
John  A.  Buchanan 


1 1-  'I    I  IMU/'.KY  •    V 

• 

V 


DEDICATION 

TViw  Littfe  Volume  is  Respectfully  Dedicated  to 
THE  PIONEERS 


T 


I  HE  men  and  women,  true  and  brave, 
Who  forward  pressed,  the  land  to  save, 
Where  flows  Columbia's  crystal  wave 

Ado wn  the  changing  years ; 
The  loyal  hearts,  who  dared  oppose 
The  cruel  darts  of  savage  foes, 
And  every  danger  that  arose, — 

The  sturdy  pioneers. 

The  men  and  women,  tried  and  true, 
Who  came  a  wild  land  to  subdue, 
And  builded  better  than  they  knew, 

In  sorrow  and  in  tears ; 
Who  over  plains  and  valleys  pressed, 
O'er  mountain's  wild  and  rugged  crest, 
To  found  an  Empire  in  the  West, — 

The  noble  pioneers. 


YHAJUHJ  1  'iOMOMAH 


CONTENTS 

Page 

LEWIS  AND  CLARKE  9 

SACAJAWEA   n 

MULTNOMAH 13 

THE  LEGEND  OF  LAKE  JOSEPH 17 

PILLAR  ROCK  21 

THE  LEGEND  OF  WAPINITSA 25 

THE  RESERVATION  BALL 28 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  TRIBES 31 

SlOUX   AND    SlOUX-ICIDE    35 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  RED  MAN  36 

WHY  THE  DOVE  MOURNS  39 

INDIAN  LULLABY 44 

THE  NEZ  PERCES  FAREWELL  ADDRESS  TO  GENERAL 

CLARK    45 

How  THE  CASCADES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA  WERE  FORMED    50 

THE  EMBRACE  OF  DEATH  , 53 

THE  STORY  OF  JONATHAN  DEE 57 

JOHN  WALTON  AND  THE  INDIANS  62 

THE  BURIED  TREASURE 65 

THE  WILLAMETTE 75 

To  MOUNT  HOOD  77 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  UMPQUA  79 

THE  BATTLESHIP  "OREGON"  82 

THE  ROUGH  RIDERS  AT  LA  QUISINA  84 

ROVER'S  DRILL  86 

THEY'RE  DYING  OVER  THERE 87 

REMEMBER  THE  MAINE 89 

THEY  REMEMBERED  THE  MAINE 90 

STRUCK  OUT  92 

THE  BABY   93 

DEATH  OF  CAPTAIN  CAPRON  94 

THE  VOLUNTEER  96 

MY  MOTHER 97 

LIFE'S  DUTIES  99 


CONTENTS— Continued. 

Page 

PLAIGNELY  INSAIGNE 100 

NAMING  THE  BABY  101 

LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM 102 

MY  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  THE  HAMMOCK 103 

THE  VALUE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 104 

WHO  MAKES  IT  SNOW  ?  105 

A  MEMORY  106 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  "NEW  WOMAN'S"  HUSBAND 107 

THE  MOUSE  AND  THE  HAWK  108 

THE  LEAF  AND  THE  TWIG no 

THE  BOOK  THAT  is  MARKED  112 

THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE 113 

YAMHILL  AGAINST  THE  WORLD  115 

SANTA  GLAUS  116 

SECRET  SORROWS  117 

THE  SECRET  OF  HAPPINESS  118 

THE  MAN  WHO  WOULDN'T  ADVERTISE 120 

MAY    121 

LEAVING  THE  HOMESTEAD 122 

SUCCESS    124 

A  SUMMER  DAY 125 

TWILIGHT    126 

THE  YEAR  OF  LIFE 127 

PRESS  ONWARD  129 

OCTOBER  130 

PLAIN  DRUNK  131 

MY  BABY   133 

A  REPLY  134 

THE  PATTER  OF  THE  RAIN 135 

THE  OLD  YEAR  AND  THE  NEW 136 

THE  FOOD  OF  THE  GODS  137 

VACATION  138 

WINTER  AND  DEATH  139 

GOOD-NIGHT   140 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACE  PAGE. 

MT.  HOOD,  FROM  LOST  LAKE Frontispiece 

STATUE  OF  SACAJAWEA n 

NORTH   ABUTMENT  TO   BRIDGE  OF  THE  GODS,  AND 
CASCADES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA : 50 

MOONLIGHT  ON  THE  UMPQUA 79 

STATUE  OF  CAPTAIN  MERIWETHER  LEWIS 99 

STATUE  OF  CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  CLARK 129 


INDIAN  LEGENDS 

AND 

OTHER  POEMS 


I 


LEWIS  AND  CLARK 

N  all  the  western  country, 

Best  of  a  noble  land, 
Though  many  names,  and  famous, 

On  history's  pages  stand, 
No  other  name  shines  brighter, 

Nor  more  deserves  remark, — 
No  name  stands  out  more  proudly, 

Than  names  of  Lewis  and  Clark. 

They,  through  a  land  untrodden, 

Save  by  the  savage  bands, — 
Wild  men  of  plains  and  mountains, 

O'er  barren,  desert  lands, 
Pressed  to  the  Western  Ocean, 

Where  Nature  ever  smiles, 
Nor  halted  on  their  journey 

Of  full  three  thousand  miles. 

[9] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


They,  to  their  chief  presented 

The  rivers  of  the  West, 
A  golden  land  embracing, — 

The  fairest  and  the  best ; 
And  happy  homes  by  thousands, 

Thrive  in  the  land  they  won, 
And  millions  bless  their  coming 

To  land  of  the  setting  sun. 

Ne'er  shall  they  be  forgotten  ; 

Honor  the  valiant  band, 
Who  saved  the  West  for  the  Nation, 

And  gave  us  a  goodly  land ; 
And  two  shall  live  forever, — 

Each  name  a  shining  mark ; 
The  famous  name  of  Lewis, 

The  honored  name  of  Qark. 


10] 


STATUE  OF  SACAJAWEA 

Portland,  Oregon 


N  D  I  A  N   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


s 


SACAJAWEA 

HE,  a  Shoshone  Indian  woman, 

Ever  brave  and  ever  true, 
She,  a  lone  child  of  the  mountains, 

And  a  captive  of  the  Sioux, 
Led  the  first  exploring  party, — 

Honored  Lewis,  fearless  Qark, 
Far  across  the  pathless  desert, 

And  o'er  mountains,  cold  and  dark, 
Through  the  fertile  plains  and  valleys, 

Light  of  heart,  and  spirit  free, 
Ever  pointing  to  the  westward, 

Onward,  westward  to  the  sea. 

Many  weary  months  they  journeyed, 

Until  hope  was  almost  gone ; 
Over  steep  and  rugged  mountains, 

Still  they  toiled  and  journeyed  on, 
Weak  and  weary,  worn  and  foot-sore, 

Ere  they  reached  the  mountain's  crest, 
And  before  them  spread  in  splendor, 

Future  Empire  of  the  West ; 
But  through  all,  the  Indian  woman, — 

Ever  true  and  brave  was  she, 
As  she  pointed  to  the  westward, 

Onward,  westward  to  the  sea. 

[ii] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      ::      : 


Day  by  day  she  marched  before  them, 

Not  a  moment  did  she  fail, 
As  she  led  the  great  explorers, 

O'er  the  rugged  mountain  trail ; 
And  through  all  the  fearful  journey, 

'Twas  her  voice  that  urged  them  on 
To  the  mystic  land,  where  ever 

Rolls  the  mighty  Oregon; 
Till  they  reached  the  broad  Pacific, 

And  the  Land  of  Destiny, 
Still  she  pointed  to  the  westward, 

Ohward,  westward  to  the  sea. 

Let  the  whole  world  sing  her  praises, 

Songs  of  praise  so  long  unsung ; 
Let  her  brave  deeds  be  remembered, — 

Be  a  theme  on  every  tongue ; 
In  her  honor  build  a  statue, 

In  the  land  she  helped  to  save, 
To  the  noble  Shoshone  woman, 

Sleeping  in  an  unknown  grave; 
Raise  it  in  the  land  she  honored, 

In  this  land  of  liberty, 
Ever  pointing  to  the  westward, 

Ever  westward  to  the  sea. 


[12] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


MULTNOMAH 

LONG  ages  ago,  a  daughter  was  born, 
To  a  Molalla  chief,  on  a  summer  morn, 
Near  the  bright  Willamette  river; 
The  chieftain  watched  for  a  sign  from  above, 
The  Great  Spirit,  guarding  his  children  in  love, 
For  a  sign  what  name  to  give  her. 

But  ne'er  a  sign  did  the  Great  Spirit  make, 
Till  one  day  the  chieftain  stood  by  the  lake, 

And  his  thoughts  were  of  his  daughter; 
And  he  saw  there,  floating  not  far  from  shore, 
A  flower  of  the  Gods, — in  Indian  lore, 

A  wild  rose,  on  the  water. 

In  the  wild  rose,  floating  before  the  wind, 
The  Great  Spirit  spoke  to  his  simple  mind, 

And  he  named  the  child  Multnomah, — 
Or,  "Wild-rose-on-the-waters,"  for  she 
Was  fairer  than  all  the  flowers  of  the  lea, 

The  flower  of  sweetest  aroma. 

Multnomah  developed  to  womanhood, 

A  full-blown  rose,  in  the  flowering  wood, — 

A  famous  Indian  maiden  ; 
Till  a  Wapato  chieftain  won  her  love, 
And  took  to  his  home  his  captive  dove, 

With  gifts  and  presents  laden. 

[13] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


A  mighty  chief  of  a  Chinook  band 

Had  been  a  suitor  for  Multnomah's  hand, 

But  his  suit  had  been  rejected ; 
His  hate  was  strong,  as  his  love  was  brief, 
And  fiercely  he  hated  the  Wapato  chief, 

Whom  the  maiden  had  selected. 


For  vengeance  thirsting,  he  marshalled  his  band, 
And  marched  into  the  Wapato's  land, 

All  bent  on  death  and  pillage ; 
From  land  of  the  Molallas,  side  by  side, 
The  chieftain  had  just  returned  with  his  bride, 

When  the  foe  attacked  his  village. 

The  battle  that  followed  was  fierce  and  long, 
But  the  Chinook  warriors  were  brave  and  strong, 

And  far  outnumbered  their  f oemen ; 
The  Wapato  chieftain  fell  in  the  fight, 
And  his  bravest  warriors  perished  that  night, 

His  bravest  spearmen  and  bowmen. 


The  women  and  children  were  held  as  slaves, 
To  serve  in  the  homes  of  the  Chinook  braves, 

Where  flows  the  Columbia  river ; 
No  words  can  picture  Multnomah's  grief, 
In  the  island  home  of  the  Chinook  chief, 

Without  a  friend  to  deliver. 

[14] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Multnomah  resolved  she  never  would  live 
The  life  of  a  slave,  nor  ever  forgive 

A  chief  so  stony  hearted ; 
So  she  stole  away  from  the  chieftain's  door, 
And  entered  a  boat  on  the  island  shore, 

And  for  the  mainland  started. 


The  furious  chieftain  following  fast, 
Bent  to  the  oar,  in  the  wintry  blast, 

And  direst  vengeance  muttered; 
When  nearing  the  boat  that  the  maiden  bore, 
She  rose,  and  staying  herself  with  her  oar, 

These  words  Multnomah  uttered : 


"All  that  I  loved  and  cherished  are  gone ; 
Why  should  I  care  or  desire  to  live  on, 

A  slave  among  your  daughters? 
So  will  I  go  to  the  Spirit  Land, 
As  I  came  from  thence  to  my  father's  hand, — 

A  wild  rose  on  the  waters." 


Ringing  and  clear  as  a  silver  bell, 

Her  words  on  the  ears  of  the  chieftain  fell, 

As  mocking  his  fierce  endeavor ; 
Then  lightly  she  sprang,  and  sank  in  the  tide ; 
The  waters,  embracing  the  faithful  bride, 

Caressed  her  and  kept  her  forever. 

[15] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


Multnomah  died,  but  her  name  ever  lives ; 
Her  story  an  added  interest  gives 

The  beautiful  land  of  roses ; 
The  mighty  river  still  flows  to  the  sea, 
And  ever  its  waves  play  peacefully, 

Where  the  faithful  bride  reposes. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  LEGEND  OF  LAKE  JOSEPH 


W 


AILING  Wind,  an  Indian  maiden, 
With  a  wealth  of  beauty  laden, 
Belle  of  Valley  of  Wallowa, 
In  the  land  of  the  Nez  Perces, — 
Land  once  owned  by  them,  but  now  a 

Country  lost  by  war's  reverses, — 
Dwelt  beside  Lake  Joseph's  water, 
Wailing  Wind,  a  chieftain's  daughter. 

Wailing  Wind  had  many  lovers, 
Though  but  two  the  maiden  favors, — 
Young  Big  Snake,  a  chieftain  noted, 

And  Long  Fish,  a  young  physician, 
To  the  maiden  most  devoted, 

In  his  tribe  a  great  magician ; 
Each  his  love  to  her  confided, 
But  the  maid  was  undecided. 

Long  had  young  Big  Snake  been  waiting, 
Long  had  been  his  rival  hating, 
But  his  love'grew  ever  stronger, 

For  the  coy  and  artful  maiden ; 
He  resolved  to  wait  no  longer, 

For  his  heart  with  care  was  laden ; 
He  would  have  a  final  answer, 
From  his  beautiful  entrancer. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


Autumn  came;  the  wise  or  daring, 
Must  for  winter  be  preparing; 
So  in  pleasant  autumn  weather, 

A  big  hunt  the  chiefs  provided  ; 
All  the  braves  should  hunt  together, 

And  the  spoils  should  be  divided ; 
But  before  the  hunters  started, 
Big  Snake,  dreading,  yet  firm-hearted, 

Quickly  to  the  maiden  speeding, 
Told  her  how  his  heart  was  bleeding, 
Told  her  how  his  heart  was  burning 

For  her  love,  and  for  her  answer ; 
He  must  know  upon  returning, 

If  she  loved  the  necromancer ; 
If  she  loved  Big  Snake,  relenting, 
To  become  his  bride  consenting, 

On  the  third  day  she  must  greet  him, 
And  across  the  lake  must  meet  him ; 
Then  returning  resolutely, 

He  with  all  the  hunters  started, 
Wailing  Wind,  still  standing  mutely, 

Where  her  lover  from  her  parted ; 
Neither  dreaming  that  by  magic, 
Long  Fish  saw  the  meeting  tragic, 


[18] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Heard  the  words  so  lowly  spoken, 
And  resolved  they  should  be  broken, 
If  the  maiden,  in  her  madness, 

Should  attempt  to  meet  his  rival ; 
He  would  change  their  joy  to  sadness, 

Ere  the  absent  chief's  arrival ; 
Thus  with  jealous  hatred  burning, 
Watched  he  for  the  chief's  returning. 

Wailing  Wind  gazed  at  her  lover, 
Till  he  reached  the  forest  cover ; 
Of  the  warriors  all  assembled, 

None  were  manlier  nor  braver ; 
As  she  gazed,  the  maiden  trembled, 

And  her  heart  its  answer  gave  her; 
She  would  meet  her  absent  lover, 
She  would  be  his  slave  forever. 

All  impatiently  she  waited 
For  the  hour  her  lover  stated, 
Till  at  last  she  saw  him  standing, 

Like  a  statue,  in  the  gloaming, 
On  the  farther  shore,  commanding 

And  awaiting  there  her  coming ; 
Quickly  in  her  boat  departing, 
She  was  o'er  the  waters  darting. 


[19] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Eagerly  the  chieftain's  daughter 
Urged  her  boat  across  the  water, 
And  when  half  the  distance  over, 

Paused  a  moment,  upward  started, 
Waved  a  greeting  to  her  lover ; 

Suddenly  the  waters  parted, 
And  a  monster  grim  appearing, 
High  above  the  water  rearing, 

Grasped  the  boat,  with  anger  glaring, 
In  his  arms  the  maiden  bearing, 
Disappeared  beneath  the  waters  ; 

Thunder  pealed  on  Joseph  Mountain, 
Till  the  snow-capped  giant  totters ; 

Joseph  Lake,  and  every  fountain, 
Trembled  with  the  strange  commotion, 
Like  the  billows  of  the  ocean. 

To  the  'fond,  distracted  lover, 
Wailing  Wind  was  lost  forever ; 
Now  the  bravest,  most  undaunted 

Of  the  Indian  braves,  will  never 
Venture  on  the  waters  haunted ; 

And  upon  the  lake  forever, 
Wailing  Wind,  the  chieftain's  daughter, 
Rules,  the  Spirit  of  the  Water. 


[20] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


I 


PILLAR  ROCK 

N  the  midst  of  the  Columbia, 

Tried  by  wave  and  tempest  shock, 
Like  a  gallant  knight  in  armor, 

Grand  and  lone,  stands  Pillar  Rock ; 
And  the  Indians  have  a  legend, 

Handed  down  from  days  of  old, 
And  to  you  I  tell  the  story, 

As  to  me  the  tale  was  told. 

It  was  in  the  distant  ages, 

Many  centuries  ago, 
Long  before  the  grasping  white  man 

Trod  where  western  rivers  flow ; 
When  on  shores  of  the  Columbia, 

Dwelt  a  sturdy,  stalwart  race, 
Mighty  warriors  and  fair  maidens, 

Large  in  stature,  fair  of  face. 

And  the  dusky  Indian  maidens, 

With  their  parents,  came  each  year, 
To  dig  the  wappatoes  that  grew 

Beside  the  river  clear ; 
And  at  night  around  the  campfires, 

They  would  sing  their  sweetest  songs, 
Of  the  glory  of  their  fathers, 

In  the  righting  of  their  wrongs. 

[21] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Now  a  young,  impulsive  warrior, 

Living  on  the  other  side, 
Was  enchanted  with  the  singing, 

Floating  far  across  the  tide ; 
And  each  evening  he,  enraptured, 

Listened  to  the  music  rare, 
Floating  far  across  the  waters, 

On  the  balmy  evening  air. 

And  a  firm  resolve  was  forming 

In  his  bosom,  brave  and  true ; 
Soon  was  fixed  his  earnest  purpose, 

And  he  planned  what  he  would  do ; 
He  would  wade  across  the  river, 

O'er  the  river,  deep  and  wide, 
Would  select  the  fairest  maiden, 

And  demand  her  for  a  bride. 

When  was  formed  his  resolution, 

Came  the  fox,  of  power  supreme, 
And  advised  the  love-lorn  warrior, 

Not  to  try  to  wade  the  stream ; 
For  if  he  should  wade  the  river, 

The  offense  he  must  atone ; 
Ere  he  passed  across  the  water, 

He  should  surely  turn  to  stone. 


[22] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
::      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


And  besides,  if  he  succeeded, 

At  that  spot,  from  shore  to  shore, 
People  then  could  wade  the  river, 

Until  time  should  be  no  more ; 
This  discouraging  announcement 

Changed  the  earnest  warrior's  mind, 
And  he  changed  his  resolution, 

And  his  ardent  hopes  resigned. 

But  that  night  again  the  singing 

Wafted  from  the  other  shore, 
And  again  the  sweet  enchantment 

Seemed  to  thrill  his  soul  the  more ; 
And  again  the  resolution 

Formed  within  his  dusky  breast ; 
He  would  take  the  chance  of  winning, 

If  he  failed, — to  die  were  best. 

So  next  morning,  bright  and  early, 

While  his  comrades  were  asleep, 
He  was  up  and  on  his  journey, 

Through  the  waters,  cold  and  deep ; 
But  when  only  part  way  over, 

Fox  appeared  upon  the  strand, 
Turned  to  stone  the  hapless  warrior, 

Where  the  Pillar  Rock  now  stands. 


[23] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Thus  for  centuries  the  warrior, 

Fearless,  amorous  and  bold, 
Standeth  guard  upon  the  river, 

Like  a  warrior  knight  of  old ; 
Rising  high  above  the  water, 

Tried  by  wave  and  tempest  shock, 
As  a  warning  to  his  people, 

Grand  and  lone,  stands  Pillar  Rock. 


[24] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  LEGEND  OF  WAPINITSA 

This  is  the  legend  of  Wapinitsa, — 
"The  frog  that  lived  in  a  hole." 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  long,  long  ago, 
A  bad  Indian  lived  where  the  tamaracks 
grow, 

Far  east  of  the  Cascade  Range ; 
This  bad  Indian  found  in  the  desert  drear, 
A  round  hole  of  water,  sparkling  and  clear, 
A  well  both  surprising  and  strange. 

A  round  hole  of  water  the  bad  Indian  found, 
With  green  grasses  fringing  it  all  around, 

And  no  other  water  was  near ; 
No  other  Indian  had  known  of  the  place, 
The  bad  Indian  found  it  while  out  on  the  chase, 

His  claim  to  the  water  was  clear. 

One  day  a  party  of  warriors  passed  through 
The  desert  where  nothing  but  sage-brush  grew, 

And  the  bad  Indian  led  them  astray ; 
And  they  wandered  through  the  desert  accursed, 
Till  all  were  nearly  famished  from  thirst, 

And  for  water  they  all  did  pray. 

[25] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


The  bad  Indian  then  said  he  knew  of  a  place, 
A  beautiful  well  he  had  found  on  the  chase, 

Where  the  water  was  sweet  and  cool ; 
And  if  they  would  give  him  a  pony  apiece, 
And  each  with  a  bearskin  his  riches  increase, 

He  would  lead  them  to  the  pool. 

The  warriors  objected,  but  finally  said 
They  would  pay  the  price  if  to  water  he  led, 

For  it  meant  death  to  refuse ; 
So  he  turned  aside  but  a  little  way, 
And  led  to  the  water  ere  close  of  day, 

And  proudly  demanded  his  dues. 

The  faint  warriors  eagerly  drank  their  fill, 
Then  turned  to  their  guide,  their  pledge  to  fulfill, 

In  the  twilight  calm  and  cool; 
But  naught  of  the  guide  could  the  warriors  see, 
In  his  place  a  frog  croaked  dismally, 

And  noisily  plunged  in  the  pool. 


The  Great  Spirit  never  his  children  forsook; 
He  knew  the  advantage  the  bad  Indian  took, 

A  course  both  dishonest  and  mean ; 
So  he  changed  the  bad  Indian  into  a  frog, 
Forever  thereafter  to  live  in  the  bog, 

And  he  never  again  was  seen. 

[26] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


Though  the  Indians  ever  avoided  the  spot, 
A  lesson  they  learned,  and  never  forgot 

The  fate  of  the  poor  lost  soul ; 
And  this  is  the  legend  the  Warm  Springs  tell, 
Of  Wapinitsa,  who  found  the  well, 

"The  frog  that  lived  in  a  hole." 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  RESERVATION    BALL 

THE  ladies  gave  a  party, 
In  the  new  athletic  hall ; 
A  good  old-fashioned  shin-dig, 

A  famous  Leap  Year  ball ; 
From  all  the  Reservation, 

The  crowd  each  moment  swells, 
And  these  are  some  of  the  beauties, — 

The  Reservation  belles: 

Mary  Old- jack-rabbit,  and  Angeline  Bull-frog, 
Susie  Bear-lays-down,  and  Helen  Comes-out-of- 

fog; 

Minnie  Nods-at-bear,  and  Catherine  White-sail, 
Lottie   Grand-mother's-knife,  and   Kittie   Medi- 
cine-tail ; 
Lilly    Cries-for-ribs,    and    Alice    Shoots-as-she- 

goes, 

Sally  Beads-on-ankle,  and  Bessie  Turkey-toes ; 
Elizabeth  Three-wolves,  and  Ruth  Plenty-butter- 
flies, 

Beatrice  Big-goose,  and  Fannie  Turtle-eyes; 
Jessie  Flat-head-woman,  and  Madeline  Long-ear, 
Emma    Knows-her-gun,    and    Bertha    Spotted- 
deer; 
And  many  other  beauties, 

Came  flocking,  one  and  all, 
To  dance  to  sweetest  music, 
At  the  Reservation  ball. 

[28] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


The  boys  they  came  by  dozens, 

All  eager  for  the  fray ; 
Invited  guests  of  honor, 

Each  with  a  maiden  gay; 
Their  uncles,  aunts  and  cousins, 

And  everybody  goes, 
To  see  the  Leap  Year  party, — 

And  these  are  some  of  the  beaux : 
John  Little-standing-bear,  and  James  No-shoes, 
Christopher    Spotted-horse,    and    Jacob    Good- 
news; 

Solomon  Plenty-scalps,  and  Joe  Rain-in-the-face, 
Clarence  Buffalo-head,  and  Willie  Wins-the-race ; 
Edward  Medicine-pipe,  and  Samuel  Grins-at- 

bear, 

Jack    Man-afraid-of-his-horse,  and  Henry  Yel- 
low-hair ; 

Elijah  Hairy-wolf,  and  Arnold  Wrinkle-face, 
Andrew    Moccasin-skin,    and    Daniel    Lost-his- 

case; 

Arthur  Caught-in-a-trap,  and  Moses  Crooked- 
nose, 

John  Bear-in-the-middle,  and  David  Bend-the- 
bows; 
And  many  other  warriors, 

Came  flocking,  one  and  all, 
To  dance  to  sweetest  music, 
At  the  famous  Leap  Year  ball. 

[29] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


What's  in  a  name,  Sir  Critic? 

The  dusky  native  sons 
And  daughters  are  as  proud  of  theirs, 

As  many  gentler  ones ; 
And  when  engaged  in  dancing, 

Parading  up  and  down, 
Have  just  as  keen  enjoyment, 

As  Jones  or  Smith  or  Brown. 


[30] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  TRIBES 

LONG,  long  ago,  before  the  birth 
Of  man,  so  legends  say, 
The  gods  were  rulers  of  the  earth, — 

O'er  land  and  sea  held  sway ; 
And  Wishpoosh,  the  great  beaver  god, 

Who  dwelt  within  the  lake, 
Claimed  everything  near  his  abode, 
In  water,  plain  or  brake. 

He  claimed  the  wood  upon  the  shore, 

The  waters  and  the  fish  ; 
And  cruel  Wishpoosh  had  far  more 

Than  ever  heart  could  wish  ; 
And  he  destroyed  each  living  thing 

In  anger,  that  came  near; 
His  cruel  strength,  overpowering, 

Set  all  the  land  in  fear. 

One  day  the  great  coyote  god, 

Speelyai,  passed  by  that  way, 
And  saw  his  creatures  worn  and  sad, 

Because  of  beaver's  sway ; 
For  lack  of  food  his  creatures  all, 

Were  slowly  starving  there, 
The  high  and  low,  the  great  and  small, 

In  fear  and  blank  despair. 

[31] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Speelyai  was  kind  of  heart  and  true, 

And  loved  his  creatures  well; 
And  he  resolved  what  he  would  do, 

To  break  the  beaver's  spell, 
And  save  them  from  a  cruel  fate, 

So  undeserved  and  wrong ; 
He  would  his  creatures  liberate, 

And  kill  the  beaver  strong. 

A  powerful  short-handed  spear, 

He  bound  around  his  waist 
With  twisted  flax,  without  a  fear, 

And  to  the  lake  made  haste ; 
He  found  Wishpoosh,  and  through  his  heart 

Drove  swift  his  heavy  spear ; 
The  beaver  god,  with  angry  start, 

Plunged  'neath  the  waters  clear. 

A  fearful  struggle  then  ensued; 

For  Speelyai  was  made  fast 
To  Wishpoosh,  with  the  twisted  cord, 

About  his  body  cast; 
They  struggled  there  till  close  of  day, 

When  Wishpoosh  turned  to  flee, 
And  entered  the  Columbia 

That  flows  into  the  sea. 


[32] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


With  mighty  strength,  and  seeming  ease, 

Speelyai  was  dragged  along ; 
He  clutched  at  rocks  and  passing  trees, 

To  break  the  cordage  strong; 
But  Speelyai  was  not  released, 

Till  seas  before  them  spread ; 
The  beaver's  dying  struggles  ceased, 

The  beaver  god  was  dead. 

He  dragged  his  victim  to  the  land, 

And  then  with  purpose  grim, 
He  laid  him  there  upon  the  sand, 

And  tore  him  limb  from  limb ; 
And  of  the  parts  the  tribes  he  made, 

Of  all  the  western  coast, — 
Though  now  diminished  and  decayed, 

Were  once  a  mighty  host. 

And  of  the  belly  Speelyai  made 

The  many  people  that 
Reside  along  the  coast,  and  said: 

"You  shall  be  short  and  fat;" 
And  of  the  legs,  Cayuses  grave, 

And  Speelyai  said  to  them : 
"You  shall  be  fleet  of  foot,  and  brave, 

And  stout  of  heart  and  limb/' 


[33] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


The  northern  tribes  were  from  the  head, — 

Nez  Perces,  Coeur  d'  Alenes, 
Whose  fame  through  all  the  west  has  spread, 

As  men  of  wealth  and  brains  ; 
Men  wise  in  peace,  in  warfare  bold, 

And  skilled  in  art  and  trade ; 
The  Yakimas,  like  Eve  of  old, 

Were  of  the  ribs  then  made. 

And  last  of  all  before  him  lay, 

But  blood  and  vile  refuse; 
And  these  Coyote  threw  away 

To  country  of  the  Sioux, 
And  country  of  the  Snakes,  and  said : 

"You  shall  be  mean  and  vile, 
By  violence  and  hatred  led, 

And  treachery  and  guile/' 

And  then  the  mighty  Speelyai  stood, 

Where  many  waters  meet, 
And  viewed  his  work, — pronounced  it  good, 

And  perfect  and  complete ; 
And  standing  on  a  peak  to  rest, — 

The  land  before  him  spread, — 
He  pointed  North  and  South  and  West, 

Then  to  the  East,  and  said : 


[34] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"There  is  no  longer  room  for  me ; 

For,  lo,  on  every  hand, 
The  earth  is  filled,  my  people  free, 

Inhabit  all  the  land." 
Then  he  who  made  the  noble  race, 

That  once  controlled  this  shore, 
Departed  sadly  from  his  place, 

And  he  was  seen  no  more. 


I 


SIOUX  AND  SIOUX-ICIDE 

N  the  land  of  the  powerful  Sioux, 
There  lived  a  young  warrior  named  Lioux ; 

"Great  goodness !"  he  cried, 

I  must  get  me  a  bried ; 
That's  the  very  first  thing  I  must  dioux." 

To  a  maiden  with  plenty  of  beaux, 
He  determined  at  once  to  propeaux ; 

Said  she,  "I  don't  know; 

You  have  frightened  me  ksow, 
I'll  have  to  refuse,  I  suppeaux." 

He  understood  not  the  finesse, 

Of  a  fair  maiden's  no,  that  means  yesse; 

So  he  stole  a  big  knife, 

And  ended  his  klife, 
And  he's  now  a  "Good  Indian,"  I  guesse. 

[35] 


NDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  RED  MAN 

(Ralbo's  story,  from  Hon.  J.   C.   Cooper's  excellent 
book,  The  Yamhills.) 

LONG  time  ago,  a  great  bird  flew 
To  where  my  people  dwell ; 
O'er  mountains  high  and  forests  new, 

He  searched  each  hill  and  dell; 
The  bird  was  looking  for  a  mate, 

To  make  his  lone  heart  glad ; 

No  people  could  the  bird  locate, 

His  life  was  lone  and  sad. 

He  flew  to  mountain  tops  far  north, 

But  found  no  people  there ; 
He  flew  to  mountain  tops  far  south, 

But  all  was  bleak  and  bare; 
His  heart  was  weary  and  oppressed, 

For  snow  was  on  the  peaks ; 
He  flew  to  mountains  in  the  west, 

But  finds  not  what  he  seeks. 

Through  forests  deep,  o'er  mountains  high, 

He  early  searched  and  late ; 
The  great  bird  was  about  to  die, 

Because  he  found  no  mate ; 
Then  the  Great  Spirit  whispered  low, 

"Go  to  the  valleys  fair, 
Between  the  hills,  where  rivers  flow, 

Among  the  animals  there." 

[36] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


He  flew,  and  flew  to  valleys  fair, 

And  circling  round  and  round, 
Found  many  animals  everywhere, 

But  no  people  there  he  found ; 
Then  he  said  to  the  eagle  gray, 

"Will  you  be  my  mate?"    A  spring 
The  eagle  gave,  and  flew  away, 

And  he  broke  the  eagle's  wing. 

Next  to  the  fox  he  went  and  said, 

"Fox,  will  you  be  my  mate?" 
The  wild  fox  answered  no,  and  fled 

To  the  forests  desolate ; 
Then  he  said  to  a  little  fawn, 

Grazing  beside  a  rill, 
"Pretty  fawn,  will  you  be  my  mate?" 

And  the  fawn  replied,  "I  will." 

He  made  the  fawn  to  stand  upright, 

Its  two  front  feet  made  hands; 
He  made  its  eyes  to  shine  as  bright 

As  stars  in  tropic  lands ; 
Its  ears  he  changed  to  long,  black  hair, 

And  straight  before  him  grew 
An  Indian  maiden,  pure  and  fair 

As  roses,  tipped  with  dew. 


[37] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


The  hawk  and  dove  were  to  him  drawn, 

And  said,  "Oh,  spirit  mild, 
Oh,  make  me  pretty,  like  the  fawn, 

And  I  will  be  your  child ;" 
The  bear,  the  badger  and  the  swan, 

Came  to  him  with  the  plea, 
"Oh,  make  us  pretty,  like  the  fawn, — 

Your  children  we  would  be." 

He  made  them  pretty  like  the  fawn, 

And  people  they  became ; 
And  ere  the  summer  day  was  gone, 

He  gave  to  each  a  name, 
And  in  a  book,  long,  long  ago, 

Did  all  their  names  inscribe ; 
They  were  his  children,  and  are  now 

My  people  and  my  tribe. 


[38] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


W 


WHY  THE  DOVE  MOURNS 

HEN  beasts  were  men,  so  we  are  told, 

And  talked  as  men  do  now, 
There  lived  a  warrior,  wise  and  bold, 

As  legends  all  avow, 

A  mighty  man,  in  days  of  old, 

Of  noble  mien  and  brow. 


Go-nut, — the  Salmon,  was  his  name, 
Well  known  through  all  the  west ; 

In  war  and  peace  alike  his  fame, 
The  bravest  and  the  best ; 

He  kindled  an  undying  flame 
In  every  maiden's  breast. 

At  last  the  famous  warrior  wed 

Sulk-sulk,  a  maiden  fair, 
And  many  pleasant  summers  sped 

Before  the  happy  pair; 
And  peaceful  was  the  life  they  led, 

Without  a  thought  of  care. 

But  then  appeared  an  Indian  maid, 

Lovely  Te-coon-te-coon ; 
With  suitors  true  she  often  strayed 

Beneath  the  silver  moon, 
And  many  lovers  left,  dismayed, 

For  she  accepted  none. 

[39] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


Go-nut  determined  to  propose, 
Since  all  the  young  men  failed, 

And  to  the  maiden  quickly  goes, — 
His  wooing  soon  prevailed ; 

Her  love  the  pretty  maid  bestows, 
Denials  naught  availed. 

They  soon  were  married,  and  the  bride, 

Full  happy  and  content, 
The  favored  wife,  all  wants  supplied, 

Lived  in  the  chieftain's  tent; 
There  as  his  second  wife  to  bide, 

With  happy  heart  she  went. 

Sulk-sulk-was  much  neglected;  lone 

And  dreary  was  her  life ; 
And  though  his  love  so  cold  had  grown, 

She  was  a  faithful  wife ; 
She  murmured  not,  but  plodding  on, 

Allayed  domestic  strife. 

But,  finally,  there  came  a  day, 

So  full  of  pain  and  care, 
The  burdens  that  upon  her  lay, 

Were  more  than  she  could  bear ; 
So  she  resolved  to  go  away, 

And  close  the  sad  affair. 

[40] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


And  with  her  son  upon  her  back, — 
She  could  not  leave  her  child, — 

She  started  on  the  pathless  track, 
Through  forests  dark  and  wild, 

Across  the  Cascade  Mountains  black, 
Self-banished,  self-exiled. 

The  famous  chief  was  soon  advised 
Where  she  had  gone,  and  when, 

And  then  he  fully  realized 
How  cruel  he  had  been ; 

His  faithlessness  he  now  despised, 
Aind  wished  her  back  again. 

And  so  he  would  arrest  her  flight, 

And  bring  her  back  again, 
And  make  amends  for  every  slight ; 

Te-coon-te-coon  would  fain 
Go  with  him,  hoping  that  she  might 

Her  husband's  love  retain. 

They    followed    Sulk-sulk's    tracks,    and 
passed 

Her  cainp  fires  on  the  way; 
For  many  weeks  they  onward  pressed, 

Across  the  mountains  gray, 
Till,  wearied,  Go-nut  stopped  to  rest, 

And  at  the  close  of  day, 

[41] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Under  a  bank  he  soundly  slept, 
Worn  out  with  toil  and  woe, 

When  stealthily  Coyote  crept, 
And  dealt  Go-nut  a  blow 

With  a  large  stone,  and  thus  entrapped, 
And  laid  the  chieftain  low. 

The  sly  Coyote  wished  to  make 

Te-coon-te-coon  his  own ; 
To  win  her  love,  and  for  her  sake, 

He  threw  the  heavy  stone 
That  slew  the  chieftain  in  his  track, 

Without  a  sigh  or  moan. 

She  sat  beside  her  chief  and  mourned, 
While  stars  shone  out  above ; 

Coyote's  sympathy  she  spurned, — 
Would  not  accept  his  love; 

Coyote's  heart  with  hatred  burned ; 
He  turned  her  to  a  dove, 

And  told  her  she  should  weep,  and  weep, 
Long  as  the  world  should  stand ; 

And  she,  today,  in  forests  deep, 
In  every  clime  and  land, 

In  lonely  vale  or  mountain  steep, 
Obeys  the  stern  command. 

[42] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"Oh-ho-wich-gee-cul  1"  still  is  heard 
The  plaintive,  wailing  chord ; 

"Oh,  husband,  husband !"  still  the  word 
Rings  out  its  sweet  accord, 

And  still  the  gentle,  faithful  bird, 
Mourns  for  her  murdered  lord. 


[43] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


S 


INDIAN  LULLABY 

LEEP,  my  baby,  sleep ; 
The  busy  day  is  done, 
The  silent  night  begun, 
The  shadows  o'er  us  creep, 
Then  sleep,  my  little  babe,  sleep. 

Sleep,  my  baby,  sleep ; 
The  birds  have  gone  to  rest, 
The  squirrel  is  in  its  nest ; 
Bright  stars  their  vigils  keep, 
Then  sleep,  my  little  son,  sleep. 

Sleep,  my  baby,  sleep ; 

The  night  bird's  call  I  hear, 

The  wolf  is  prowling  near, 

Out  in  the  forest  deep, 

Then  sleep,  my  little  brave,  sleep. 

Sleep,  my  baby,  sleep ; 
Father  will  soon  be  here ; 
He's  hunting  for  the  deer, 
Out  on  the  mountain  steep, 
Then  sleep,  my  dusky  brave,  sleep. 


[44] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


THE  INDIAN  MESSENGERS 

In  1832  the  people  of  St.  Louis,  then  a  border  city, 
were  surprised  to  see  in  their  streets  four  Nez  Perces 
Indians.  During  all  the  summer  and  fall,  through  hos- 
tile tribes,  they  had  been  crossing  the  mountains  and 
plains.  They  were  treated  by  Gen.  Clark  with  the  great- 
est kindness.  They  were  reticent  at  first,  but  later  it 
was  learned  that  they  were  seeking  a  heavenly  book 
known  to  the  white  men,  and  for  teachers  for  their  peo- 
ple. Their  pathetic  appeal  became  the  moving  cause  of 
the  establishment  of  Christian  Missions,  by  the  Lees, 
Whitman  and  others,  to  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest. 
Two  of  these  Indians  died  at  St.  Louis.  On  their  jour- 
ney homeward  the  survivors  were  joined  by  George 
Catlin,  who  was  much  pleased  with  them,  and  who 
painted  their  portraits,  which  are  Nos.  207  and  208  of 
his  noted  collection.  These  two  were  named  "No-horns- 
on-his-head"  and  "Rabbitskin-leggins."  But  one  of 
them  lived  to  reach  home. — From  Life  of  Marcus  Whit- 
man, by  Dr.  Nixon. 

The  Nez  Perces'  farewell  address  to  Gen.  Clark,  from 
which  the  following  poem  was  written,  is  found  in 
Marcus  Whitman  and  Early  Days  of  Oregon,  by  Wm. 
A.  Mowry. 


THE  NEZ  PERCES'  FAREWELL  ADDRESS 
TO  GENERAL  CLARK 


L 


ONG  my  people  dwelt  in  darkness, 
Long  have  worshipped  the  Great  Spirit ; 
In  his  wondrous  works  they  see  him, — 

In  the  flowers  that  bloom  in  spring  time, 

In  the  drifting  snows  of  winter, 

In  the  rivers  flowing  seaward, 

In  the  green  firs  of  the  forest, 

[45] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


They  can  see  his  thoughts  reflected ; 

Feel  his  breath  upon  the  waters, 

Feel  his  heart-throbs  in  the  spring  time, 

When  all  Nature  re-awakens 

From  her  winter's  sleep  of  beauty ; 

Hear  his  voice  amidst  the  thunder 

Of  the  storms  that  sweep  the  mountains ; 

In  the  babbling  brook  they  hear  it, 

In  the  sighing  of  the  pine  trees, 

In  the  echoes  of  the  canyons; 

And  the  summer  breezes   whisper 

Of  the  Spirit  great  and  mighty, 

Of  the  wise  and  good  Creator. 

But  the  Spirit  never  told  us 

Of  our  duty  to  each  other, 

Never  left  a  book  to  guide  us 

To  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter, 

And  my  people  are  in  darkness ; 

They  have  heard  that  in  the  city, 

Far  across  the  Rocky  Mountains, 

Far  across  the  level  country, 

By  a  mighty,  rushing  river, 

In  a  book,  and  plainly  written, 

Are  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit ; 

So  my  people  held  a  council, 

And  they  sent  me  for  the  writing, 

For  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit, 

For  the  White  Man's  Book  of  Heaven. 

[46] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Many  weary  moons1 1  traveled, 

O'er  the  mountains  steep  and  rugged, 

Through  the  dark  and  pathless  forest, 

Over  deep  and  rapid  rivers, 

Through  the  trackless,  sandy  desert, 

Through  the  Sioux  and  Blackfoot  country, 

Through  the  country  of  the  Pawnees ; 

Enemies  along  the  journey, 

Hostile  foes,  beset  my  pathway, 

But  I  left  them  all  behind  me, 

Still  my  face  turned  to  the  sun  rise, 

Till  the  steeples  of  your  city, 

By  the  Father  of  the  Waters, 

Rose  before  my  longing  vision. 


You  have  treated  me  with  kindness, 
Took  me  to  the  place  of  pleasure, 
Where  I  saw  your  women  dancing 
As  our  wives  are  not  permitted, 
But  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
In  the  written  book  I  found  not ; 
Then  you  led  me  to  the  houses 
Where  you  worship  the  Great  Spirit, 
Worship  him  with  burning  candles ; 
Showed  me  pictures  of  good  people, 
Showed  me  images  of  marble, 
But  the  Book  was  not  among  them ; 

i.    Months. 

[47] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Showed  me  all  your  wondrous  houses, 
Showed  me  all  your  mighty  city, 
Showed  me  how  upon  the  water 
All  your  big  canoes  were  floating, 
But  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
In  the  White  Man's  Book  of  Heaven, 
I  have  longed  for,  I  have  found  not. 

And  the  fathers  who  came  with  me, 
Braves  of  many  wars  and  winters, 
Lie  asleep  by  your  great  water ; 
They  were  weary  with  the  journey, 
And  their  moccasins  were  worn  out ; 
Many  moons  they  traveled  with  me, 
I  return  alone  without  them. 

Now  I  go  back  to  my  people, 

On  the  long  trail  o'er  the  desert, 

Far  across  the  snow-clad  mountains; 

Though  I  came  with  one  eye  opened 

For  the  light,  to  aid  my  people, 

For  my  friends  who  sit  in  darkness, 

Now  with  both  eyes  closed  I  journey, 

And  I  have  no  light  to  give  them ; 

Though  with  strong  arms  I  came  from  them, 

I  go  back  with  both  arms  empty, 

I  go  back  with  both  arms  broken ; 

You  have  burdened  me  with  presents, 

Gifts  to  carry  to  my  people, 

But  the  Book  is  not  among  them. 

[48] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


After  one  more  snow,2  in  council, 

I  will  meet  my  poor  blind  people ; 

When  I  tell  them  of  my  failure 

To  bring  back  the  Book  of  Heaven, 

Not  a  word  will  then  be  spoken 

By  the  young  braves,  or  the  old  men ; 

One  by  one,  amidst  the  silence, 

They  will  rise  up  and  will  leave  me ; 

They  will  live  and  die  in  darkness, 

And  will  go  the  last  long  journey, 

To  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter, 

With  no  White  Man's  Book  to  guide  them, 

Or  make  plain  the  way  before  them ; 

With  no  words  of  the  Great  Spirit, 

To  direct  them  on  their  journey; 

Farewell,  brother ;  I  have  spoken. 

2.    Year. 


[49] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


HOW  THE  CASCADES  OF  THE 
COLUMBIA  WERE  FORMED 


L 


ONG,  long  ago,  in  Indian  lore, 

In  dim  and  distant  ages, 
A  stone  bridge  spanned  the  river  o'er, 

Where  now  the  water  rages ; 
A  great  stone  bridge,  on  Nature's  plan, 

The  mighty  river  covered ; 
Beneath  it  dark  the  water  ran, 
Above  the  storm-clouds  hovered. 

The  Indians  gathered  there  each  year, 

In  pleasant  summer  weather, 
From  north  and  south,  from  far  and  near, 

For  many  weeks  together, — 
'Twas  neutral  ground, — to  live  in  peace 

With  all  tribes  dwelling  near  it ; 
And  there  they  offered  sacrifice 

To  Manitou,  the  Great  Spirit. 

Far  to  the  north,  in  splendor,  stood 
Mount  Adams,  in  his  glory, 
And  to  the  left  majestic  Hood, 
Far  famed  in  song  and  story ; 

And  near  them,  modest,  pure  and  true 
To  chastity  and  duty, 

St.  Helens  rose  between  the  two, 
Bewitching  in  her  beauty. 

[So] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Mount  Adams,  calm  and  dignified, 

Mount  Hood,  so  cold  and  royal, 
Both  wished  St.  Helens  for  a  bride, 

For  both  were  lovers  loyal ; 
St.  Helens'  pure,  bewitching  face, 

Won  love  that  could  not  waver ; 
And  each  contended  for  first  place 

In  fair  St.  Helens'  favor. 

First  jealousy  between  the  two, 

Then  fiercest  hate  succeeded ; 
Dire  threats  and  accusations  flew, — 

From  mount  to  mountain  speeded ; 
At  last,  Mount  Adams,  where  he  stood, 

By  rage  and  fury  blinded, 
A  bowlder  threw  at  stately  Hood ; 

Thus  of  his  hate  reminded, 

Mount  Hood  responded  with  a  stone ; 

And  then  began  in  earnest, 
The  greatest  duel  ever  known, 

The  deadliest  and  sternest ; 
Earth  trembled,  and  huge  bowlders  flew, 

From  mount  to  mountain  dashing; 
Storms  bellowed  and  fierce  whirl-winds  blew, 

And  vivid  lightnings  flashing. 


[51] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


At  last  the  fight  came  to  a  close, 

Their  strength  was  sorely  tested ; 
Exhausted  were  the  mighty  foes, 

And  from  the  battle  rested ; 
But  what  about  the  great  stone  bridge? 

Alas,  for  war's  profaning, 
Where  firm  it  stood  from  ridge  to  ridge, 

Was  not  a  span  remaining. 

But  in  its  place  the  water  flows 

In  rapid,  churning  motion, 
Dashing  and  splashing  as  it  goes, 

Like  breakers  on  the  ocean ; 
The  Cascades,  men  have  named  the  place, 

Where  once  the  bridge  suspended ; 
And  men  may  yet  its  outlines  trace, 

From  shore  to  shore  extended. 

When  the  Great  Spirit  saw  the  blight 

And  ruin  so  dismaying, 
His  anger  kindled  at  the  sight, 

And  he  commanded,  saying, 
The  mountains  dead  shall  always  be, 

And  silent  in  their  stations, 
Against  the  sin  of  jealousy, 

A  warning  to  all  nations. 


[52] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  EMBRACE  OF  DEATH 

FULL  half  way  up,  on  the  mountain  side, 
Overlooking  a  pleasant  land, 
Each  marking  the  tomb  of  an  Indian  bride, 
Three  rude  and  simple  headstones  stand ; 
And  this  is  the  story  the  natives  tell, 

With  faltering  lips,  and  bated  breath, 
Of  the  warriors  bold  and  the  savage  yell, 

The  maidens  three,  and  the  embrace  of  death. 

For  Klickitat  maidens  fair  were  they, 

Captives  held  by  the  Coeur  d'Alenes ; 
The  only  fruits  of  a  bold  foray, 

And  a  bloody  battle  upon  the  plains. 
But  the  Klickitat  warriors  forward  pressed, 

And  rode  hard  after  their  ancient  foes ; 
And  the  Coeur  d'  Alenes,  holding  their  captives 
fast, 

Fled  for  their  mountains,  like  frightened  does. 


[53] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


The  Klickitats    followed,    like    bees    from  their 

hives, 
And  the  Coeur  d'Alenes  found  they  soon  must 

submit 

To  loose  their  captives,  and  ride  for  their  lives, 
Or  somehow  must  manage  their  foes  to  outwit ; 
Then  three  warriors  took  their  captives  fair, 
And    leaving   their   comrades,    determined   to 

hide; 

Concealing  their  trail  with  infinite  care, 
They  entered  a  cave  on  the  mountain  side. 

From  their  vantage  point,  in  the  morning  gray, 

They  saw  them  passing  their  hiding  place, 
And  heard  the  shouting,  as  far  away, 

The  warriors  rode  on  their  bootless  chase; 
And  the  maidens  appeared  in  gentle  mood, 

And  accepted  their  fate  with  one  accord; 
They  made  the  beds  and  prepared  the  food, 

Each  waiting  upon  her  Coeur  d'Alene  lord. 

One  of  the  maids  was  the  daughter  fair, 

Of  a  medicine  man  in  her  native  wild ; 
She  had  learned  his  secrets,  and  potions  rare, 

And  practiced  his  arts  since  a  little  child ; 
And  during  the  heat  of  the  afternoon, 

She  caught  ten  rattlesnakes,  it  is  said, 
Secreting  them  in  her  clothing,  she  soon 

Had  hidden  them  in  the  rustic  bed. 

[54] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


As  the  sun  went  down,  in  war-dress  arrayed, 

Observing  the  customs  of  their  tribe, 
They  married  each  other  to  captive  maid, 

As  their  traditions  and  laws  prescribe ; 
Then  there  was  feasting  and  joy  for  each  brave, 

Till  late  they  retired  to  their  bridal  bed, — 
Made  of  fir  branches,  laid  in  the  cave, 

With  robes  of  buffalo  over  them  spread. 

Then  wild  yells  of  pain  and  agony  rose 

From  the  folds  of  the  bridal  cot ; 
And  the  frenzied  warriors,  with  savage  blows, 

Attempted  to  flee  from  the  spot. 
But  the  maidens'  arms  about  them  cling, 

And  the  rattlers'  warnings  rang, 
Till  a  dozen  times  they  had  felt  the  sting 

Of  the  serpent's  terrible  fang. 

With  fury  they  seized  their  defenseless  brides, 

And  the  captives  were  cruelly  slain ; 
Then  mounting  their  ponies  each  warrior  rides, 

To  die  in  agony  on  the  plain. 
And  the  Klickitats,  searching  far  and  wide, 

Found  the  dead  bodies  of  them  they  sought, 
And  buried  them  there  on  the  mountain  side, 

Whose  freedom  had  been  so  dearly  bought. 


[55] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


And  in  their  honor  the  headstones  rude 

Were  raised  by  the  sorrowing  braves ; 
And  pale-faced  strangers  now  oft  intrude, 

To  visit  the  lonely  graves. 
In  the  mountain  tribes  of  a  dying  race, 

The  story's  still  told  with  bated  breath ; 
And  an  Indian  proverb  says :  The  embrace 

Of  a  Klickitat  maid  is  the  embrace  of  death. 


[56] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  STORY  OF  JONATHAN  DEE 


Y 


ES,  my  dear  Bonnie,  a  tale  I'll  relate, 
A  story  of  pioneer  days  I'll  narrate — 
A  brave  farmer's  nerve,  and  a  wild  In- 
dian's fate. 


A  story  my  grandfather  used  to  enjoy, 

Who  told  it  to  me  when  I  was  a  boy, 

No  bigger  than  you,  or  your  cousin  Le  Roy. 

In  sixteen  hundred  and  seventy-three, 
There  lived  near  the  pioneer  town  of  Swansea, 
A  sturdy  young  farmer  named  Jonathan  Dee. 

Those  were  the  good  old  New  England  days, 
When  King  Phillip's  braves  set  the  land  in  a 

blaze, 
By  their  murderous  deeds  and  deadly  affrays. 

When    each    settler's    house    was    enclosed    by 

stockade, 

Or  armed  and  protected  by  strong  palisade, 
For  better  defense  and  security  made. 

When  laborers  went  to  their  work  in  the  field 
Full  armed,  and  their  hearts  to  necessity  steeled, 
Determined  to  perish  before  they  would  yield. 

[57] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Armed  savages  scoured  the  whole  country  o'er, 
Singly,  in  pairs,  or  in  bands  of  a  score, 
Destruction  behind  them,  and  terror  before. 

With  smouldering  ruins  and  death  in  their  wake, 
Each  boasting  in  glee  of  the  scalps  he  could  take, 
The  savages  reckoned  their  vengeance  to  slake. 

Now  Jonathan  Dee  had  a  nice  field  of  grain 
As  ever  yet  gladdened  the  heart  of  a  swain, 
Full  ripe,  and  awaiting  the  reaper's  refrain. 

He  silently  shouldered  his  scythe  and  his  gun, — 
No  time  for  vain  fears  when  there's  work  to  be 

done, 
And  grain  to  be  saved  ere  the  winter's  begun. 

"Now  be  careful,  my  dear,"  said  his  good  wife 

Rose, 

"Look  out  for  the  tricks  of  our  treacherous  foes, 
The  Indians  are  near  us,  as  every  one  knows." 

"I'll  keep  a  close  lookout,"  her  good  husband 

said, 

"For  I  have  no  desire  to  sleep  with  the  dead, 
Nor  lose  the  black  locks  from  the  crown  of  my 

head." 

[58] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Arrived  at  the  field  and  reclining  his  gun  , 
In  a  broken  fence  corner,  he  quickly  begun 
To  get  the  grain  cut,  ere  the  set  of  the  sun. 

He  cut  a  wide  swath  through  the  ripening  grain, 
Then  back  to  the  place  of  beginning,  again 
The  golden  heads  bowed  with  their  mates  to  the 
plain. 

'Twas  just  after  noon,  in  the  heat  of  the  day, 
Our  hero  was  busily  working  away, — 
Behind  him   his   wandering  glance  chanced  to 
stray. 

A  sight  met  his  vision  that  filled  him  with  dread, 
And  sent  the  cold  chills  from  his  feet  to  his  head, 
Near  freezing  the  blood  in  his  veins,  it  is  said. 

A  red  painted  savage,  his  bitterest  foe, 

Was  creeping  upon  him,  so  stealthy  and  slow, 

With  tomahawk  ready  to  strike  the  death  blow. 

The  demon's  red  face  gleamed  in  triumph,  he  felt 
Another  brave  pale  face's  scalp  at  his  belt, 
And  honor  he'd  get  for  the  blow  he  had  dealt. 

Though  startled,  our  hero  had  presence  of  mind ; 
A  man  that  was  braver  one  hardly  could  find, — 
And  seemed  not  to  notice  his  foe  was  behind. 

[59] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


He  saw  at  a  glance  what  was  best  to  be  done, — 
The  Indian  approached  between  him  and  his  gun, 
And  Jonathan  Dee  had  resolved  not  to  run. 

He  worked  away  steadily,  stroke  after  stroke, 

With  purpose  as  firm  as  the  towering  oak, 

And  breathed  a  low  prayer,  divine  aid  to  invoke. 

At  each  ringing  stroke  of  the  N/ew  England 

scythe, 

He  glanced  at  his  foeman,  who  serpent-like,  lithe, 
And  noiselessly  gliding,  seemed  nearer  to  writhe. 

Still  nearer  and  nearer,  with  panther-like  tread, 
The  Indian  approached  to  his  victim  ahead, 
While  bright  smiles  of  joy  o'er  his  grim  visage 
spread. 

And  now  he  is  close  to  his  laboring  foe, 

His  nostrils  dilate,  and  his  eyes  brightly  glow ; 

He  raises  his  hatchet  to  deal  the  death  blow. 

But  the  blow  never  fell ;  Dee's  vigilant  eye 
Saw  the  treacherous  act,  and  with  furious  cry, 
He  suddenly  turned  with  the  scythe  lifted  high. 

And  down  on  the  neck  of  the  wild  renegade 
Descended  the  might  of  that  terrible  blade ; 
The  strength  of  a  giant  the  weapon  obeyed. 

[60] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


The  stroke  rivaled  that  which  the  Saracen  made, 
When  Richard,  the  Lion-Heart,  led  the  crusade, 
Which  Scott,  in  "The  Talisman/'  loves  to  parade. 

The  head  of  the  savage  sprang  forward  amain, 

His  body,  in  agony,  sank  to  the  plain, 

And  Jonathan  Dee, — finished  cutting  his  grain. 

And  that  is  the  story  of  Jonathan  Dee, 
Which  my  aged  grandfather  told  unto  me, 
As  told  by  his  father,  who  lived  in  Swansea. 


[61] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


JOHN  WALTON  AND  THE  INDIANS 

SIX  savages  started  upon  the  warpath, 
All  gaudily  painted  with  ocher  and  clay ; 
For  months  they  had  brooded  and  bottled 

their  wrath, 
Till  now  they  determined  a  pale  face  to  slay. 


Then  off  to  the  settlement  quickly  they  rode, 
On  tough  little  ponies,  so  wiry  and  stout ; 

A  bottle  of  fire-water  each  of  them  stowed, 
To  keep  him  from  losing  his  courage,  no  doubt. 

Old  farmer  John  Walton  was  splitting  a  log, 
A  big  knotty  oak  stick,  with  mallet  and  wedge, 

When  roused  at  the  barking  and  growls  of  his 

dog, 
Six  Indians  he  saw  coming  over  the  hedge. 

They  quickly  surrounded  him,  pulled  at  his  hair, 
They  plucked  out  his  beard  and  they  tweaked 

his  long  nose; 

Their  tomahawks  wildly  they  brandished  in  air, 
And  danced  in  delight  as  they  bent  their  long 
bows. 

[62] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"Prepare  for  the  torture,"  the  big  chieftain  said, 
"This  day  I  have  sworn  it,  the  pale  face  must 
die." 

"All  right,"  Walton  said,  "but  before  I  am  dead, 
A  favor  I'll  ask,  which  you  must  not  deny. 

"If  I  should  go  hence  without  splitting  this  log, 
To  the  far  happy  hunting  grounds,  home  of  the 
good, 

No  better  I'd  be  than  my  horse  or  my  dog, 
Unhappy  I'd  be  in  the  prairie  or  wood. 

"He  can  not  feel  pleasure  nor  happiness  there, 
Who   leaves   incomplete   what  he   undertakes 
here; 

I'd  find  there  no  pleasure  in  hunting  the  bear, 
No  pleasure  I'd  take  in  the  chase  of  the  deer. 

"I  must  finish  my  task."    "We'll  wait,"  said  the 

chief, 
"Complete    it;    we    ask    not    condition,    nor 

pledge"; 
The  Indians  were  pleased  with  John  Walton's 

belief, 

And  gravely  they  watched  as  he  hammered  the 
wedge. 


[63] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Becoming  impatient, — the  splitting  was  slow, 
They  offered  their  services,  wildly  agog, 

And  three  on  each  side  kneeling,  three  in  a  row, 
Grasped  firmly  the  edge  of  the  opening  log. 

"Now  pull/'  yelled  John  Walton,  and  manfully  all 
Leaned  backward,  all  eager  the  word  to  obey ; 

A  powerful  stroke  on  its  side,  with  the  maul, 
Sent  the  hard  wedge  a-flying  some  two  rods 
away. 

A  fierce  yell  of  rage  from  six  dusky  throats  rose, 
A  deep  roar  of  pain,  their  credulity's  price, 

As  the  lips  of  the  oaken  log  instantly  close, 
Enclosing  their  hands  in  its  clasp,  like  a  vise. 

They  begged  and  they  prayed  and  they  promised 

in  vain, 

A  pale  face  no  more  would  they  kill  nor  sur- 
prise; 

A  practical  man  was  John  Walton,  and  plain ; 
Said  he,  "Your  dead  Indians  never  tell  lies." 

In  death  were  soon  sleeping  those  terrible  men, 
Who  rode  forth  so  gaily  that  beautiful  day ; 

A  famous  old  warrior  was  Walton  since  then, 
And  lived  unmolested  thereafter,  they  say. 


[64] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


B 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE 

(A  Legend  of  the  Tillamook  Coast.) 

Y  the  broad  Pacific  Ocean, 
On  a  bay  of  passing  beauty, 
Lived  the  Killamooks,  a  peaceful, 
Intelligent  and  happy  people. 
Ten  decades  before  the  white  man 
Sailed  upon  Columbia's  waters, 
Lived  this  people  by  the  ocean, 
In  contentment  and  with  plenty. 


But  one  day  in  early  summer, 
Came  a  vessel  from  the  ocean, 
Came  a  ship  with  sails  outspreading, 
Like  a  bird  on  white  wings  floating, 
Like  a  sea-gull  on  the  water. 
And  the  Indians  gazed  and  wondered, 
For  they  never  had  imagined 
A  canoe  so  great  and  mighty, 
As  to  hold  a  hundred  people, 
Ne'er  before  had  seen  a  white  man ; 
Long  they  gazed  in  silent  wonder, 
Gazed  in  wonder  and  amazement. 


[65] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


'Twas  an  ancient  Spanish  galleon, 
Built  when  Spaniards  ruled  the  waters, 
By  a  pirate  crew  commanded, 
Wild  f  ree-booters  of  the  ocean ; 
They  from  Mexico  had  wandered, 
Or,  perchance,  from  far  Manila, 
Intercepted  merchant  vessels, 
Treasure  ships  of  Spanish  monarch, 
And  with  gold  and  booty  laden, 
Ballasted  with  tons  of  beeswax, 
Driven  by  a  stress  of  weather, 
By  a  storm  from  off  the  tropics, 
To  this  region  in  the  northland, 
Where  the  Oregon  flows  onward 
To  the  broad  Pacific  Ocean, 
Where  the  Killamooks  were  dwelling, 
And  to  north  of  them  the  Clatsops, 
And  the  Siletz  to  the  southward. 

To  this  land  the  pirate  rover, 

With  his  snow-white  wings  came  sailing, 

In  his  big  canoe  came  sailing, 

In  his  ancient  Spanish  galleon, 

The  first  white  man  on  these  waters, 

In  the  broad  expanse  of  ocean 

Of  the  mighty  north  Pacific ; 

In  a  cove  he  cast  his  anchor, 

And  the  ship  lay  calm  and  silent, 

Like  a  bird  upon  the  water. 

[66] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


And  the  Indians  gazed  and  wondered, 
Till  the  night  about  had  fallen ; 
Swiftly  was  the  message  carried 
Far  and  near  by  fleetest  runners, 
And  the  Indians  came  by  hundreds, 
Came  to  see  the  stranger  vessel, 
With  her  huge  masts  pointing  skyward ; 
Through  the  shadows  of  the  darkness 
They  could  see  the  distant  outlines 
Of  the  strange  ship  on  the  water ; 
Now  and  then  a  light  came  gleaming 
O'er  the  water,  from  a  distance, 
Moved  about  the  distant  vessel, 
Like  a  flitting  jack  o'lantern. 

All  night  long  the  Indians  waited, 
Watched  and  waited  in  the  darkness, 
Till  the  first  gray  beams  of  morning 
Touched  the  billows  of  the  ocean 
With  a  strange  and  magic  beauty. 

Then  appeared  upon  the  vessel 
Strange  confusion  and  commotion; 
Hoarse  replies  and  orders  spoken, 
And  a  passing  and  re-passing, 
Flitting  here,  and  there,  and  yonder, 
And  with  creaking  of  the  pulleys, 
And  with  sound  of  many  voices, 
And  with  shouting  and  with  swearing, 

[67] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


The  small  boats  were  slowly  lowered, — 
Small  canoes  with  many  paddles, 
By  the  great  canoe  supported ; 
They  were  lowered  to  the  water, 
And  were  quickly  filled  with  people, 
Till  the  boats  were  near  to  sinking. 
Twenty  stern  and  rugged  pirates, 
Men  of  every  rank  and  nation, 
Wild,  unshaven  and  fierce-looking, 
Armed  with  cutlass,  sword  and  pistol, 
Rowed  their  boats  into  the  breakers, 
And  upon  the  sea-shore  landed. 

Then  eight  strong  and  stalwart  sailors 
Took  a  large  chest  from  the  life-boat, 
Bearing  it  away  between  them, 
While  their  leader  marched  before  them 
And  their  comrades  followed  after, 
Up  the  pathway  from  the  ocean ; 
Strong  the  chest  was,  made  of  hard  wood, 
And  was  bound  with  bands  of  iron ; 
And  within  it  was  the  treasure, 
Filched  from  monarch  and  from  merchant, 
In  their  wild  life  on  the  ocean; 
Precious  stones  of  greatest  beauty, 
Of  all  kinds,  in  great  profusion, 
Bars  of  virgin  gold  and  silver, 
Buckskin  bags  well  filled  with  gold  dust, 
Spanish  coins  of  greatest  value, 
Filled  the  chest  with  wealth  uncounted. 
[68] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


And  the  Indians  followed  after, 
Followed  at  respectful  distance, 
Gazed  in  silence  at  the  strangers, 
Wondered  at  their  arms  and  raiment, 
Thinking  them  superior  beings 
From  strange  lands  across  the  water, 
Or  from  other  worlds  descended. 


To  a  cliff  they  marched  in  silence, 
To  a  tall  cliff  facing  seaward, 
Looking  westward  to  the  sunset ; 
Perpendicular  its  face  was, 
And  on  all  the  coast  a  landmark ; 
Ait  its  base  they  laid  their  burden, 
And  with  help  of  pick  and  shovel, 
Soon  had  made  an  excavation, 
Dug  a  grave  within  the  shadow 
Of  the  cliff  so  tall  and  rugged, 
And  the  chest,  with  treasure  laden, 
In  the  open  grave  they  lowered ; 
Then  they  led  a  frightened  negro, 
Led  a  slave  into  the  circle, 
In  the  open  grave  they  placed  him, 
Made  him  kneel  upon  the  treasure, 
And  the  captain's  pistol  sounded, 
Sounded  clear  above  the  breakers 
Rolling  on  the  sands  below  them ; 
Swiftly  sped  the  leaden  bullet, 

[69] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Quickly  it  performed  its  mission, 
And  the  slave  lay  dead  forever, 
There  to  guard  the  buried  treasure. 

Then  the  pirates,  with  their  shovels, 

Quickly  filled  the  excavation, 

And  with  earth  the  grave  was  rounded, 

Buried  deep  the  untold  riches, 

With  the  slave  above  to  guard  it. 

And  the  Indians  ranged  about  them, 

Gazed  upon  the  scene  enacted, 

Wondered  at  the  smell  of  powder, 

At  the  small  but  deadly  weapon, 

Charged  with  thunder  and  with  lightning. 

Curiosity  and  wonder 

Overcoming  fear  and  caution, 

They  kept  drawing  near,  and  nearer, 

Till  they  stood  about  the  white  men ; 

Then  the  leader  of  the  pirates 

Thus  addressed  the  startled  Indians : 

Friends,  we  here  the  chest  have  buried, 

And  the  blackman  left  to  guard  it ; 

It  must  never  be  molested ; 

He  who  dares  attempt  to  dig  here, 

Or  remove  the  box  we  buried, 

Shall  be  haunted  by  the  spirit 

Of  the  slave  we  leave  upon  it ; 

For  his  spirit  here  shall  hover, 

And  shall  guard  the  chest  forever ; 

[70] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


He  is  powerful  in  magic, 
And  will  strike  dead  each  intruder ; 
Neither  shall  you  speak  nor  whisper 
Of  the  things  your  eyes  have  witnessed, 
Or  your  lives  shall  be  accursed, 
And  the  spirit  guard  shall  haunt  you, 
And,  perchance,  it  may  destroy  you ; 
Let  this  day  be  soon  forgotten ; 
Friends,  remember ;  I  have  spoken. 

Then  with  chisel  and  with  mallet, 
Soon  a  tall  and  bearded  Spaniard 
Cut  a  cross  above  the  treasure, 
Cut  a  large  cross  in  the  hard  rock 
Of  the  cliff,  above  the  treasure, 
Thus  recording  its  location ; 
Turning  westward  to  the  ocean, 
To  the  sea-shore  marched  the  pirates, 
To  their  boats  upon  the  water, 
Pushed  out  boldly  through  the  breakers, 
Quickly  boarded  they  their  vessel, 
Spread  the  sails  and  raised  the  anchor, 
And  were  soon  lost  in  the  distance, 
On  the  mighty  waste  of  ocean. 

They,  no  doubt,  had  full  intention, 
Of  some  later  day  returning 
To  secure  the  buried  treasure ; 
But  a  storm  rose  on  the  ocean, 

[71] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Fierce  and  long  their  ship  was  driven, 
Snapped  her  masts,1  like  dry  twigs  broken, 
Lost  her  sails  and  lost  her  anchor, 
Swept  her  sailors  in  the  ocean, 
And  when  every  man  had  perished, 
Cast  her  hulk,  still  filled  with  beeswax, 
On  the  beach  of  the  Nehalem.2 

Thus  the  pirate  vessel  perished, 
Perished,  too,  the  crew  and  captain, 
But  the  treasure  still  is  buried, 
Still  lies  buried  on  the  sea-shore, 
And  the  blackman's  spirit  guards  it. 


1.  Several  years  ago  the  author  saw  a  section  of  an 
old  mast  lying  on  the  beach  south  of  the  Nestucca.    It 
had  been  there  since  the  white  men  first  went  into  that 
country,  and  the  Indians  claim  that  it  was  from  the 
Spanish  pirate  ship  that  was  wrecked  on  the  Tillamook 
coast  ages  ago.     It  was  about  three  feet  in  diameter, 
made  of  Spanish  cedar,  not  a  single  stick,  but  many 
pieces,  layer  upon  layer.     The  parts  were  fastened  to- 
gether with  numerous  long,  sharpened  hardwood  wedges, 
and   hand-made  wrought-iron    spikes,    about    eighteen 
inches  in  length.    It  was  well  preserved,  even  then,  and 
had,  apparently,  been  a  great  deal  larger. 

2.  Tons  of  beeswax  have  been  dug  out  of  the  sands 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Nehalem  River,  and  placed  on  the 
market.    Experts  from  the  Smithsonian  Institute  claim 
that  it  is  mineral  wax,  but  that  is  evidently  not  true. 
Well-moulded  cakes  have  been  dug  out,  with  inscrip- 
tions on  them,  and  perfectly  formed  candles  of  the  same 
material  have  been  found,  with  a  hole  through  the  cen- 
ter, where  the  wick  has  disappeared.     The  cargo  was 
evidently  intended   for  the   Catholic   Missions   on  the 
Mexican  or  South  American  coast.    The  legends  of  the 
Indians  connect  the  beeswax  with  the  Spanish  pirate 
ship. 

[72] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


It  is  more  than  twenty  decades, 
Since  the  treasure  thus  was  buried ; 
But  the  Indians  kept  the  secret, 
Never  talked  with  one  another, 
Until  all  were  dead  and  buried, 
No  one  but  the  chief  remaining 
Of  the  Indians  who  had  witnessed 
There  the  bloody  scene  enacted, 
And  who  saw  the  treasure  buried. 
As  the  feeble  chief  lay  dying, 
Ere  the  spark  of  life  departed, 
To  his  bedside  called  the  chifetain, 
Called  his  son  who  should  succeed  him, 
Told  him  all  the  burning  secret, 
That  had  slumbered  in  his  bosom 
For  so  many  weary  winters ; 
Warned  him  never  to  repeat  it 
Till  his  days  of  life  were  numbered.* 
And  the  son  observed  the  warning, 
In  his  bosom  kept  the  secret 
Till  he  found  that  he  was  dying ; 
Then  he  told  about  the  treasure 
To  his  son,  who  long  years  after, 
Told  it  to  a  friendly  trapper, 
And  it  reached  the  ears  of  white  men. 


[73] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


But  from  fear  or  superstition, 
Not  an  Indian  ever  mentioned, 
Or  revealed  the  dread  location 
Where  the  treasure  chest  was  buried, 
And  the  spot  is  lost  forever. 
But  somewhere  along  the  coast  line, 
From  Netarts  to  the  Nehalem, 
There  are  wealth  and  riches  buried, 
Greater  than  the  wealth  of  Klondike, 
Or  the  fabled  wealth  that  glittered 
In  the  cavern  of  Aladdin. 

Many  men,  for  months  together, 
Up  and  down  the  coast  have  wandered, 
Searching  for  the  cross  appearing 
On  the  cliff  above  the  treasure. 
But  their  search  was  ever  fruitless, 
And  the  treasure  still  lies  buried, 
While  the  dead  man's  spirit  guards  it. 


[74] 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


L 


THE  WILLAMETTE 

1ET  others  incline 
To  sing  of  the  Rhine, 
Or  of  Hudson's  fairy  dells ; 

I  sing  of  a  stream, 

That  flows  like  a  dream, 
To  the  tune  of  wedding  bells. 

For  of  all  the  streams, 

'Neath  the  sun's  bright  beams, 
The  Willamette  is  dearest  to  me, 

Which  springs  from  repose, 

In  a  prison  of  snows, 
And  joyously  bounds  to  the  sea. 

One  evening  afloat 

In  a  little  boat, 
On  waves  of  that  crystal  stream, 

In  response  to  an  old, 

Old  story,  re-told, 
I  heard  as  in  a  dream, 

In  low  accents  falling, 

A  fairy  voice  calling, 
A  wind-whisper  to  the  pine, 

A!s  summer  breeze  sighing, 

A  sweet  voice  replying, 
"I  will,  I  will  be  thine." 

[75] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


I  hail  with  delight 

That  river  so  bright, 
Which  cheerily  flows  along; 

And  ever  the  strain 

Of  a  glad  refrain, 
I  hear  in  its  merry  song; 

And  ever  it  seems, 

Its  voice,  in  my  dreams, 
Is  calling,  calling  to  me, 

As  brightly  it  flows, 

From  a  region  of  snows, 
Till  lost  in  arms  of  the  sea. 

Then  flow  on  forever, 

Thou  beautiful  river, 
Bride  of  the  murmuring  sea ; 

Forever  repeating 

Thy  musical  greeting, 
"I  come,  I  come  to  thee." 

Repeating  the  strain 

Of  an  old  refrain, 
Still  treasured  in  memory's  shrine, 

Thy  mystical  singing, 

The  glad  message  bringing, 
"I  will,  I  will  be  thine." 


[76] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


TO  MOUNT  HOOD 

GRAND  monarch  of  thy  kind!    Thy  regal 
brow 
Rises  above  the  earth,  erect  and  bold, 
Crowned  with  thy  hoary  locks  of  driven  snow, 

Like  some  heroic  patriarch  of  old ; 
For  centuries  around  thy  mighty  form, 
Storm-clouds  have  hovered  and  the  north  wind 

blown ; 

But  heeding  not  the  blasts,  nor  wintry  storm, 
Thou  standest  like  a  sentinel,  alone. 

The  rising  sun's  first  bright  resplendent  ray, 

Reflects  thy  regal  splendor  from  the  sky ; 
The  last  departing  beams  of  dying  day, 

Thy  royal  form  with  beauty  glorify, 
And  kiss  thy  noble  brow  a  fond  good  night ; 

Thou  look'st  upon  a  busy  world,  and  blind, 
From  thy  fair  home  of  purity  and  light, 

Above  the  snares  and  cares  of  human  kind. 


[77] 


N  D  I  A  N   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


As  I  behold  thy  beauty  from  afar, 

Thy  matchless  purity  and  pow'r  sublime 
Shine  with  a  brighter  ray  than  morning  star, 

And  lift  my  soul  above  the  things  of  time ; 
O'er  all  the  land,  thy  constancy  and  grace 

Their  fragrance  shed,  as  drops    of    morning 

dew; 
Who  draws  sweet  inspiration  from  thy  face, 

Grows  more  like  thee,  more  constant  and  more 
true. 

Thou  emblem  of  all  majesty,  and  truth ! 

A  still  small  voice  from  thy  refulgence  sings, 
To  aid  decrepit  age,  aspiring  youth ; 

Directing  all  our  thoughts  to  nobler  things ; 
And,  as  of  old,  the  Teacher  led  his  band, 

Embodiment  of  purity  and  love, 
Amidst  a  world  of  error  dost  thou  stand, 

Pointing  the  erring  soul  to  heaven  above. 


[78] 


a 


w 

ffi 

H 

fc 

o 

H 
ffi 
O 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  UMPQUA 


L 


IFE  is  like  a  peaceful  river 
Flowing  onward  to  the  sea ; 

And  its  crystal  waves  forever, 
Send  our  influence  and  endeavor, 

Onward  to  eternity." 
This  the  Umpqua  sang  to  me, 

As  I  loitered  by  its  side, 
And  the  shadows  ceaselessly 

Played  upon  its  silvery  tide; 
Rippling  o'er  its  rocky  ledges, 

Gliding  peacefully  along 
Through  the  rushes  and  the  sedges, 

Singing  still  that  pleasant  song, 
Blithely  singing,  as  in  glee, 

Thus  the  Umpqua  sang  to  me. 

"Life  is  like  a  mighty  river, 

Rushing  onward  to  the  sea; 
In  its  mad  career  forever, 
Giving  place  with  stern  endeavor, 

For  the  millions  yet  to  be." 
This  the  Umpqua  sang  to  me, 

As  I  wandered  by  its  side, 
And  its  current  fretfully 

Swept  along  its  rugged  tide ; 

[79] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Dashing,  splashing  as  in  madness, 

O'er  the  bowlders  in  the  way, 
Singing  a  wild  song  of  gladness, 

This  the  Umpqua  seemed  to  say : 
"I  have  swept  aside  each  barrier, — 

Every  obstacle  away ; 
So  should  you,  in  life's  endeavor, 

Strive  and  conquer  in  the  fray." 
Roaring  o'er  its  rocky  bed, 
This  is  what  the  Umpqua  said. 

"Life  is  like  a  noble  river, 

As  it  flows  into  the  sea ; 
Though  its  earth-ties  soon  will  sever, 
'Twill  live  on,  and  on  forever, 

Through  a  vast  eternity." 
Thus  the  Umpqua  sang  once  more, 

As  I  watched  its  ebbing  tide, 
Heard  the  breakers  on  the  shore 

Of  the  ocean,  rough  and  wide ; 
And  the  river,  in  its  motion, 

In  its  majesty  flows  on, 
Mingles  with  the  waste  of  ocean, 

Till  eternity  shall  dawn ; 
But  its  waves  will  dance  forever 

On  the  bosom  of  the  deep, 
And  our  deeds  shall  perish  never, 

Though  we  sleep  our  final  sleep. 

[go] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Long  I  pondered  o'er  the  lesson 

That  the  river  doth  impart, 
And  the  sweet  song  of  the  Umpqua 

Found  an  echo  in  my  heart ; 
And  like  angel  voices  singing, 

As  the  river  bounds  along, 
Do  I  hear  the  anthem  ringing, — 

This  the  burden  of  the  song, 
That  the  Umpqua,  in  its  glee, 

Gently  flowing,  sings  to  me : 
"Life  is  like  a  peaceful  river, 

Flowing  onward  to  the  sea ; 
And  our  influence  and  endeavor, 
Shall  flow  on,  and  on  forever, 

Unto  all  eternity." 


[81] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


THE  BATTLESHIP  "OREGON" 

QUEEN  of  the  seas !   She  cleaves  the  main, 
As  conquering  army  sweeps  the  plain ; 
She  fears  nor  storm  nor  rugged  rock, 
Thrice  welcoming  the  battle  shock ; 
Dark-frowning  on  the  waves  afar, 
Stout  champion  of  a  holy  war, 
Defied  the  navies  of  the  Don, 
The  tyrant's  foe,— the  "Oregon." 

Ten  thousand  miles  o'er  stormy  seas, 
Old  Glory  floating  in  the  breeze, 
Waving  defiance  to  her  foes ; 
A  Spanish  fleet  dare  not  oppose 
Her  onward  march,  majestic,  grand, 
To  rescue  of  a  bleeding  land ; 
So  sailed  to  fame  and  fortune  on, 
The  gallant  steamer,  "Oregon." 

Grim,  silent,  terrible,  she  lay, 

Like  lion  waiting  for  his  prey, 

When  from  the  harbor's  mouth  there  came 

Thin  wreathes  of  smoke ;  an  answering  flame 

Broke  from  her  watchful  signal  gun, 

Proclaimed  the  battle  had  begun, 

And  to  the  fray  came  rushing  on, 

The  every-ready  "Oregon." 

[82] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Then  tumult  wild  arose,  and  great 
Projectiles  broke  on  armor  plate ; 
Huge  hulls  were  pierced,  and  bursting  shells, 
Shrieked  fiercely  out  the  funeral  knells ; 
While  showers  of  shot  on  Spanish  decks, 
Sang  death  songs  through  the  burning  wrecks, 
And  in  that  hell  rode  bravely  on, 
The  dread,  death-dealing  "Oregon." 

So  raged  the  battle ;  one  by  one, 
The  Spanish  cruisers  turn  and  run 
Their  burning  hulks  upon  the  shore, 
To  ride  the  restless  waves  no  more ; 
The  "Colon"  still,  with  flying  feet, 
Left  far  behind  the  tardy  fleet, 
But  on  her  track,  with  victory  won, 
The  "Brooklyn,"  and  the  "Oregon." 

Queen  of  the  ocean !    On  the  sea, 
Long  may  she  battle  for  the  free ; 
Long  may  she  rule  the  ocean  wide, 
The  Nation's  boast,  the  navy's  pride ; 
To  every  son  of  Freedom  dear, 
A  battle-ship  without  a  peer, 
A  mighty  fleet  still  leading  on, 
The  fleet-destroyer,  "Oregon." 


[83] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  ROUGH-RIDERS  AT  LA  QUASINA 


OW  up  the  darksome  glen, 
Hearts  stout  and  steady,  men ; 

Soon  we  will  meet  the  foe, 
Soon  shall  the  tyrant  feel 

Freemen's  revenging  blow, 
Freedom's  avenging  steel, — 
Forward,  Riough-riders." 

Proudly  they  marched  away, 
Eagerly  sought  the  fray; 

Footsore,  yet  toiling  on, 
Qimbing  the  mountain  side, 

While  burned  the  tropic  sun 
Over  the  desert  wide, 

Marched  the  Rough-riders. 

Weary  and  faint  and  worn, 

With  the  long  march  they'd  borne,- 

Twas  then  the  battle  broke; 
From  out  the  woods  amain, 

'Midst  clouds  of  sable  smoke, 
Fierce  storms  of  leaden  rain 

Smote  the  Rough-riders. 


[84] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Sharp  spoke  the  rifle  blast, 
Volleys  fired  thick  and  fast, 

Outnumbered  two  to  one, 
Deep  in  the  fatal  wood, 

Plainsman  and  Fortune's  son, 
Shoulder  to  shoulder  stood, 

Noble  Rough-riders. 

No  coward  hearts  were  there, 
But  strong  to  do  and  dare, 
Bravely  they  faced  the  foe, 

Bravely  fought  long  and  well, 
Though  many  were  stricken  low, 

Many  brave  comrades  fell, — 
Gallant  Rough-riders. 

"Charge!"  rang  the  sharp  command; 
Up  sprang  the  gallant  band, 
Rushing  the  strong  redoubt, 

Routing  the  Spaniards  there, 
Charged  with  a  joyous  shout, 

Cowboy  and  millionaire, 
Daring  Rough-riders. 

Before  the  wild  hurricane 
Swept  the  best  blood  of  Spain ; 
Far  from  the  field  they  fled, 

Spain's  boasted  chivalry, 
Leaving  their  gory  dead, 

Honors  and  victory 

With  the  Rough-riders. 

[85] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   ::  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Still  may  they  ever  be 
Champions  of  Liberty ; 
Hail,  heroes,  tried  and  true; 

Nobly  your  work's  begun, 
Your  country's  proud  of  you, 

Proud  of  your  victory  won, 
Gallant  Rough-riders. 


c 


ROVER'S  DRILL 

OME  here,  Rover,  let  them  see 

That   you're   smart  and   clever; 
If  you're  good,  now,  I  will  be 

Your  best  friend  forever ; 
Show  the  lady  how  you  did, 

Playing  in  the  clover ; 
Rover,  do  as  you  are  bid, 

Over,  sir,  roll  over. 


Now,  sir,  upright  you  must  stand, 

Like  a  soldier  training ; 
Now  salute  me  with  your  hand, — 

Do  be  entertaining; 
That's  a  dog  that  can't  be  beat ; 

See  him  strut  so  proudly; 
If  you  want  a  piece  of  meat, 

Speak,  sir,  speak  out  loudly. 

[86] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"THEY'RE  DYING  OVER  THERE  * 


T 


WAS  at  the  naval  battle 

Off  Santiago  bay ; 
The  Spaniards  cleared  the  harbor — 

And  eager  for  the  fray, 
Brave  Sampson  bore  down  on  them, 

With  all  his  gallant  fleet, 
And  soon  the  Spanish  cruisers, 

Were  sinking  in  defeat. 

Upon  the  beach  they  ran  them, 

All  fiercely  burning  wrecks, 
And  dead  and  dying  hundreds 

Were  bleeding  on  their  decks ; 
Deep  groaning  of  the  wounded 

Was  heard  on  every  side, 
While  magazines  exploding 

Strew  death  upon  the  tide. 

And  when,  the  battle  ended, 

The  victors  in  delight 
Cheered  for  the  starry  banner 

That  triumphed  in  the  fight, 
The  captain  of  the  "Texas," 

In  sympathetic  care, 
"Don't  cheer,  my  boys,"  he  shouted, 

"They're  dying  over  there." 

187] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


And  then  the  Yankee  sailors 

A  greater  victory  won, 
When  they  the  work  of  rescue 

And  comfort  had  begun; 
The  dying  foemen  blessed  them, 

The  saved  rejoice  to  find 
A  foe  so  brave  in  battle, 

As  victors,  true  and  kind. 

And  thus  a  greater  battle 

A  Christian  nation  wins; 
When  foes  are  conquered,  helpless, 

Then  charity  begins; 
The  bold  hearts  are  the  quickest 

A  fallen  foe  to  save; 
The  brave  alone  are  merciful, 

The  good  alone  are  brave. 

God  bless  the  Christian  captain, 

For  words  so  brave  and  true; 
The  pulse-beats  of  a  nation  throbs 

With  energy  anew, 
As  once  before  they  bounded, 

When  echoes  of  despair 
Came  from  the  shores  of  Cuba, 

"They're  dying  over  there." 


[88] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE" 

WHEN  o'er  the  dark  waters  the  message 
was  borne, 
That  startled  the  Nation — caused  mil- 
lions to  mourn, 

How  peacefully  moored  in  Havana's  broad  bay, 
At  midnight,  in  fancied  security  lay 
America's  war-ship,  and  how  it  was  hurled, 
With  shock  and  report  that  was  heard  round  the 

world, 

And  by  treachery  sunk, — and  under  the  waves, 
America's  heroes  were  sent  to  their  graves, — 
A  cry  of  revenge  sounded  sudden  and  shrill, 
The  shout  wildly  echoed  from  mountain  and  hill, 
From  ocean  to  ocean,  o'er  valley  and  plain, 
War-cry  of  the  Nation:  "Remember  the  Maine!" 


[89] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THEY  REMEMBERED  THE  MAINE 

WHEN  Dewey  sailed  down  to  the  Phil- 
ippine Isles, 
And  entered  the  harbor  and  gallantly 

files 

His  brave  little  fleet  in  battle  array, 
And  sank  every  Spaniard  afloat  in  the  bay, 
He  sailed  not  for  naught,  and  he  fought  not  in 

vain, 

For    Dewey 's    brave    sailors    remembered    the 
Maine. 

When  Cervera  sailed  out  from  the  dangerous  bay, 
Where  he'd  been  "bottled  up,"  as  the  newspapers 

say, 

Some  means  of  escape  seeking,  boldly  he  sailed 
Through  fierce   storms   of  iron   that  over  him 

hailed, 

In  vain  was  his  courage,  for  on  him  there  fell 
An  incessant  shower  of  shot  and  of  shell, 
That  sent  to  the  bottom  the  best  ships  of  Spain, 
For  Sampson  and  Schley,  they  remembered  the 

Maine. 


[90] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


When  Shafter's  brave  army  moved  on  to  the 

town 

Of  old  Santiago,  whose  batteries  frown, 
O'er  strongly  built  earthworks,  to  check  their 

advance, 

They  gallantly  charged,  and  each  regiment  plants 
Its  flag  on  the  ramparts,  and  sore  in  defeat, 
The  enemy  broke  in  disordered  retreat, 
Their  courage  was  dauntless,  resistance  was  vain, 
For   Shafter's   brave   soldiers    remembered   the 

Maine. 

In  every  engagement  our  bold  Yankee  tars 
Have    proved    themselves    worthy    disciples    of 

Mars; 

And  in  every  battle  by  land  or  on  sea, 
To  victory  carried  the  flag  of  the  free ; 
In  every  encounter,  with  bullets  and  steel, 
Our  soldiers  have  lowered  the  pride  of  Castile; 
Our  flag  is  victorious,  and  now  even  Spain, 
Aind  Spanish  officials  remember  the  Maine. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


STRUCK  OUT 

HE  battle  raged  most  fiercely; 

The  Spaniards  would  not  yield ; 
And   death   rode   through   the   charging 

ranks 
On  Santiago  field. 


The  baseball  pitcher  faltered, 
And  sank  upon  the  ground, 

His  good  right  arm  all  mangled, — 
A  gaping  Mauser  wound. 

And  there  the  surgeon  found  him, 

The  heat  of  battle  past ; 
Upon  the  ground  still  sitting, 

Dejected  and  downcast. 

The  soldier  seemed  discouraged, 
Perplexed  and  filled  with  dread; 

He  rubbed  the  wounded  member, 
And  then  he  scratched  his  head. 

The  surgeon  raised  him  gently, 
And  bathed  his  aching  head; 

And  dressed  the  mangled  right  arm, — 
"Hurt  much?"  he  kindly  said. 

[92] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"Hurt,  nothing!"  said  the  soldier, 

And  on  his  sun-tanned  face, 
An  angry  scowl  had  settled, 

Like  a  runner  left  on  base. 

"It  ain't  for  that  I'm  caring, 

No  cause,  sir,  for  alarm ; 
Such  blasted  luck!   I'm  peppered 

Right  in  my  pitching  arm. 

THE  BABY 

SHE  dis  blinks  'er  'ittle  eyes, 
An'  'er  tiny  'ead  she  shakes  at  me ; 
An'  every  'ittle  while  she  cries, 
An'  ugly  faces  makes  at  me ; 
She  got  no  teef,  she  tan  not  talk, 
She  tan  not  even  play  wiv  me ; 
She  tan  not  stand,  she  tan  not  walk, 
I  guess  she'll  have  to  stay  wiv  me. 

W'y  didn't  de  doctor  find  me  one, 

C'd  ras'le  and  play  tags  wiv  me, 
An'  laugh,  an'  jump  about  an'  run, 

An'  walk  up  to  Aunt  Mag's  wiv  me ; 
No,  you  tan't  have  my  sis'er,  dear, 

You'll  keep  'er  all  de  day  f 'm  me ; 
I  love  'er,  an'  I'll  keep  'er  here, 

You  mus'  not  take  'er  'way  f 'm  me. 

[931 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  DEATH  OF  CAPTAIN  CAPRON 

ALL  hail,  returning  heroes !   Still 
Where  wide  the  tyrant's  banners  wave, 
At  Freedom's  call  that  land  to  save, 

Brave  men  reply ; 

Though  millions  feel  the  martial  thrill 
Of  charge  of  heroes  nobly  led, 
The  world  stands  with  uncovered  head, 
When   brave  men   die. 

So  died  on  Santiago  field, 
In  shadow  of  the  tropic  wood, 
Where  grimly  the  Rough-riders  stood, 

That  fatal  day, 

Brave  Capron,  and  refused  to  yield, 
Though  far  outnumbered  by  the  foe ; 
He  charged   their  struggling   ranks,   and   so 
He  cleared  the  way. 

Twice  wounded  by  the  rifle  shot, 
But  still  refusing  to  retire, 
He  sank  amid  the  awful  fire 

Of  shot  and  shell ; 

"Don't  mind  me,  boys,  but  falter  not, 
And  keep  on  fighting,"  Capron  cried, 
"Revenge!"  his  fearless  men  replied, 
With  sterner  yell. 

[94] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


The  gallant  captain  borrowed,  then, 
A  rifle  from  a  soldier's  hand, 
And  kneeling  on  the  burning  sand, 

Wet  with  his  gore, 
Three  rapid  shots  he  fired, — The  men 
Saw  at  each  shot  a  Spaniard  slain, — 
Then  sank  upon  the  battle  plain, 
To  rise  no  more. 

Thrice  welcome  to  the  heroes  true, 
Who  lowered  the  haughty  pride  of  Spain  ; 
We  praise  them  coming  home  again, 

In  victory ; 

And  honor  to  the  boys  in  blue, 
Who  fell  beneath  that  tropic  sky ; 
The  world  reveres  the  men  who  die 
For  liberty. 


[95] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


G 


THE  VOLUNTEER 

OD  bless  the  man  who  goes  to  fight 
For  freedom,  and  for  truth  and  right ; 
Who  bravely  seeks  the  battlefield, 

The  weary  siege,  the  long  campaign ; 
He  goes  the  sword  of  right  to  wield, 
A  sword  that's  never  drawn  in  vain ; 
God  bless  the  volunteer. 


He  has  no  sordid  thought  of  gain, 
But  to  remove  the  tyrant's  chain, 

He  risks  his  health,  his  life,  his  all, 

Leaves  all  in  life  he  most  adored, 
And  ever  true  to  duty's  call, 

He  buckles  on  the  trusty  sword, 
A  noble  volunteer. 

God  bless  the  volunteer;  his  arm 
Shall  save  the  Nation  from  all  harm ; 
When  mighty  foes  arise,  and  loud 

The  cannon  thunders  o'er  the  land, 
Then  in  his  martial  spirit  proud, 

Her  bulwark  for  the  right  shall  stand, 
The  gallant  volunteer. 


[96] 


NDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :     OTHER      POEMS      :     :     i 


MY  MOTHER 

IN  every  land  has  been  the  mother's  praise, 
By  orators  declaimed,  by  poets  sung; 
But  she  needs  not  the  meed  of  poets'  lays, 

Nor  eloquence  of  man,  nor  pen,  nor  tongue, 
To  'shrine  her  in  the  hearts  of  human  kind ; 

In  that  fond  temple  is  her  influence  strong ; 
No  other  voice  so  eloquent  we  find, 
As  that  which  sang  for  us  the  cradle  song. 

And  yet,  how  many  waifs  on  life's  rough  sea 

Drift  aimlessly,  along  the  tide  of  years, 
And  never  know  a  mother's  love,  nor  plea 

Of  mother's  prayers,  nor  mother's  hopes  and 

fears ; 
How  many  more  have  mother's  love  to  save 

A!nd  cheer  them  on  life's  rough  and  thorny 

way, 
Yet  value  not  their  blessing,  till  the  grave 

Has  robbed  them  of  their  treasure  in  a  day. 


[97] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


I  had  a  mother  once,  whose  faithful  heart 

Was  pure  and  gentle  as  the  breath  of  morn ; 
Full  many  a  lesson  true  did  she  impart, 

Of  virtues  which  true  manhood  still  adorn; 
Directed  she  my  infant  feet  aright, 

My  guide  she  was, — the  healer  of  my  woes ; 
She  soothed  my  childish  sorrows,  and  at  night 

Her  sweet  song  hushed  and  lulled  me  to  repose. 

Tis  years  since  last  we  parted,  weary  years ; 

To  seek  my  fortune  in  the  distant  West 
I  left  her  lonely, — left  in  grief  and  tears, 

My  dearest  friend,  of  all  on  earth  the  best ; 
Years  passed, — a  fatal  letter  came;  it  said, 

"The  tide  ebbed  slowly  till  the  dawn  of  day; 
The  day  brought  day  eternal.    She  is  dead ; 

We  laid  her  'neath  the  flowers  in  blooming 
May." 

She  sleeps  beneath  the  weeping  willow  tree, 

Where  oft  I  played  when  but  a  little  child ; 
That  spot  the  Mecca  of  my  thoughts  shall  be, 
Though  dwelling  far  o'er  mountains  bleak  and 

wild; 
In  memory  still  I  see  her  as  of  yore, 

My    own    dear    mother, —  truest    friend    and 

best, — 

The  little  mound  far  on  the  Eastern  shore, — 
Earth  holds  no  friend  more  dear,  no  spot  more 
blest. 

[98] 


STATUE  OF  CAPTAIN  MERIWETHER  LEWIS 
Portland,  Oregon 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


LIFE'S  DUTIES 


HE  seasons  come,  the  seasons  go, 

And  mingling  with  the  fleeting  years, 
They  bury  in  their  rhythmic  flow, 
The  shadows  of  our  hopes  and  fears. 


The  years  are  gliding  on,  and  each, — 
A  mile-stone  on  the  track  of  time, — 

But  serves  to  test  our  faith,  and  teach 
To  earnest  hearts  of  things  sublime. 

Full  many  a  hope,  once  cherished  long, 

Has  faded  in  the  changing  years, 
And  vanished  like  a  dreamland  song, 

Or  dew-drops  when  the  sun  appears. 

And  many  a  failure  marks  the  field, 
Where,  bravely  battling  in  the  strife, 

Faint,    struggling   souls    succumb   and   yield, — 
Fail  in  the  trying  scenes  of  life. 

But  not  all  failure;  oft  appears, 

The  heart  triumphing  over  all ; 
That  every  call  of  duty  hears, 

And  bravely  answers  duty's  call. 

[99] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


Brave  souls  that  rise  above  the  chains 
That  bind  them  to  their  house  of  clay ; 

Forgetting  self  and  earthly  gains, 
They  speed  the  coming,  better  day. 

So  should  we  live  and  work,  that  we 

May  rise  above  the  ills  of  life ; 
Meet  every  duty  manfully, 

And  conquer  nobly  in  the  strife. 

Aind  when  life's  close  to  us  shall  come, 
The  victor's  crown  may  we  have  won ; 

May  we  be  safely  gathered  home, 

And  hear  the  welcome  words,  "Well  done/' 


PLAIGNELY  INSAIGNE 

In  the  beautiful  city  Spokane, 
There  once  lived  a  wonderful  mane ; 

He  incessantly  bawls, 

"I'll  go  over  the  fawls, 
I  will,  for  I  know  that  I  cane." 

So  he  drank  a  stout  glass  of  champaigne, 
This  man,  who  was  surely  insaigne ; 

In  a  bit  of  a  yawl, 

He  went  over  the  fawl, 
But  he'll  never  go  over  agaigne. 

[100] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


W 


NAMING  THE  BABY 

HAT  shall  we  name  the  baby  ? 

The  precious  little  pet 
Must  have  a  name  the  prettiest, 

And  sweetest  we  can  get ; 
No  common  name  will  answer, 

Sally  nor  Mollie  nor  Sue; 
The  best  is  not  too  good  for  her, 

And  only  the  best  will  do. 

Louise  her  Mamma  would  name  hei% 

Her  Papa  prefers  Maurine ; 
Her  brothers  and  sister  each  select, 

Mona,  Leone  or  Kathleen; 
Her  uncles  and  aunts  and  cousins 

Have  furnished  fully  a  score ; 
And  friends  have  suggested  others, 

An  even  dozen  or  more. 

Isabelle,  Avice  and  Nina, 

Lorene,  Loraine  and  Lucile ; 
Aileen,  Corinne  and  Juanita, 

Thelma,  Alida,  Camille ; 
Genevieve,  Ruth  and  Phyllis, 

And  other  names  galore, 
Too  numerous  here  to  mention, 

For  the  little  one  we  adore. 

[101] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


What  shall  we  name  the  baby  ? 

The  question  comes  o'er  and  o'er, 
Till  the  mind  is  weary  with  thinking, 

And  naming  becomes  a  bore ; 
And  to  settle  the  vexing  question, 

We  have  compromised  today, 
And  we'll  name  the  little  one  Mary, — 

That's  the  easiest,  quickest  way. 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM 

«¥HAVE  many  lovers  and  beaux," 
I  Said  a  charming  young  lady  named  Reaux ; 
*     "I  have  beautiful  eyes, 
I  am  witty  and  weyes, 
I'm  a  masher,  as  every  one  kneaux." 

"I'm  a  dude  and  a  dandy,  I  know," 
Said  a  dashing  young  man  they  call  Jow ; 

"I'll  make  love  to  Rose, 

She'll  dismiss  all  her  bose, 
And  straight  to  the  parson  we'll  gow." 

They  say  'twas  a  mutual  "mash," 
And  they  took  the  step  that  was  rash ; 

But  now  how  they  fight, 

They  gouge  and  they  bight, 
And  she  pulls  out  his  hair  and  mustash. 

[102] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


MY  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  THE  HAMMOCK 


U 


NDER  the  trees  so  shady  and  cool, 

A    hammock    swings    in    the    summer 

breeze, 

And  a  dear  little  maid,  just  out  of  school, 
Gently  reclining,  swings  at  her  ease, 
And  reads  the  volume  upon  her  knees, 
My  dear  little  girl  in  the  hammock. 


Bright  are  her  eyes  and  pretty  her  face, 
As  the  blushing  rose  in  the  morning  dew ; 

And  in  it  beams  the  womanly  grace 
Of  maiden  modesty ;  tender  and  true 
Is  the  heart  of  my  little  girl  in  blue, 

My  sweet  little  girl  in  the  hammock. 

I  silently  stooped  to  kiss  her  lips, 
So  pure  and  sweet,  as  I  passed  along, 

And  gaily  as  over  the  meadow  she  trips, 
She  clasped  my  neck,  impulsive  and  strong, 
And,  "Good-bye,  Papa,  don't  stay  long," 

Said  my  little  girl  in  the  hammock. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


And  as  I  go  to  my  work  away, 

The  pretty  picture  is  still  in  my  mind ; 

A  vision  of  beauty  throughout  the  day, 
Of  one  who  is  light-hearted,  noble,  refined, 
My  sweet  little  girl,  so  gentle  and  kind, 

My  own  little  girl  in  the  hammock. 


THE  VALUE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 

1CARE  not  for  station,  I  care  not  for  wealth, 
I  care  not  for  honors  nor  fame; 
I  pray  for  the  blessings  of  freedom  and  health, 

And  'friends  that  are  worthy  the  name; 
Friends  that  are  loyal,  friends  that  are  true 

Till  life's  fitful  journey  shall  end; 
There's  no  other  treasure,  for  treasures  are  few, 
So  dear  as  a  true-hearted  friend. 

I  fear  not  an  enemy's  vengeful  attack, 

I  fear  not  the  trouble  he  sends, 
With  Truth  for  my  armor,  and  friends  at  my 
back, — 

A  few  loved,  congenial  friends; 
A  true  friend's  a  treasure  I  value  far  more, 

Than  treasures  in  nuggets  or  dust; 
Let  others  choose  riches  abundant  in  store, 

I'm  rich  with  a  friend  I  can  trust. 

[104] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


D 


WHO  MAKES  IT  SNOW? 

EAR  little  Hazel,  with  laughing  blue  eyes, 
Looked  from  her  window  in  joyful  sur- 
prise, 

Over  a  landscape  all  covered  with  snow, — 
"Who  sends  it  down?"  she  said,  "I  want 
to  know." 


"Who  makes  it  snow,  Papa,  who  makes  it  snow  ? 
Tell  me,  dear  Papa,  for  I  want  to  know ; 
Who  sends  the  pretty  flakes  down  from  on  high, 
Floating,  like  bright  fairies,  down  from  the  sky  ?" 

"See  the  flakes  falling  so  gracefully  down, 
Hiding  the  woodland  and  covering  the  town 
With  a  pure,  colorless  mantle  of  snow ; 
"Who  makes  it  fall?    Papa,  I  want  to  know." 

Gleefully  catching  the  flakes  as  they  fell, 
Quickly  returning  her  pleasure  to  tell, 
Still  she  persisted,  her  voice  sinking  low ; 
"Who  makes  it  fall  ?    Papa,  I  want  to  know." 

Gladly  I  told  of  the  Father  above, 
Watching  his  children  in  pity  and  love ; 
He  will  protect  you,  my  darling,  I  know, 
Father  in  heaven,  who  sends  us  the  snow. 

[105] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


A  MEMORY 

HE  Southern  sky  is  calm  and  clear, 

The  moon  is  shining  bright, 
And  seated  in  my  arbor  here, 
I'm  all  alone  tonight. 


I  watch  the  people  as  they  pass, 
Light-hearted  in  their  glee; 

They're   happy,   but   they  bring,    alas, 
No  happiness  to  me. 

The  crowded  city  teems  with  life, 
The  humble  and  the  proud ; 

I,  all  unmindful  of  their  strife, 
Am  lonely  in  the  crowd. 

My  heart  is  far  across  the  plain, 

Far  from  the  city's  strife, 
And  here  in  silence  must  I  drain 

The  bitter  dregs  of  life. 

Though  darkly  frowns  my  evil  star, 

Still  must  I  cheerful  be, 
For  in  the  silence  from  afar, 

A  message  comes  to  me: — 

[106] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


A  sweet  voice  whispers,  "Be  a  man ; 

Your  duty, — do  your  best." 
I  will,  sweet  voice,  do  all  I  can, 

And  trust  to  God  the  rest. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  "NEW  WOMAN'S" 
HUSBAND 


I 


DON'T  dislike  to  stew  and  bake, 

And  monkey  with  the  cooking ; 
The  floors  to  sweep,  the  beds  to  make, 

And  keep  things  nobby  looking; 
I  don't  dislike  to  wash  and  scrub, — 

Do  all  my  lady  wishes ; 
But  though  I  can  prepare  the  grub, 

I  hate  to  wash  the  dishes. 

I  don't  dislike  to  sew  and  patch, 

And  mend  the  baby's  clothing ; 
Though  just  to  live  alone  and  batch, 

I  once  looked  on  with  loathing; 
But  I  do  hate  to  scrub  the  plates ; 

Great  gods  and  little  fishes ! 
Oh,  how  my  soul  abominates 

The  washing  of  the  dishes ! 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


THE  MOUSE  AND  THE  HAWK 

A  HUNGRY  hawk  soared  from  the  moun- 
tain's brow, 
O'er  a  field  new  turned  by  the  farmer's 

plow ; 

In  narrowing  circles,  stately  and  slow, 
His  keen  eyes  searching  the  furrows  below ; 
At  last,  like  a  shot,  with  a  rushing  sound, 
Swift  as  an  arrow,  he  drops  to  the  ground ; 
As  upward  again  he  begins  to  soar, 
A  poor  little  mouse  in  his  talons  he  bore ; 
Then  off  to  a  neighboring  treetop  he  flies, 
To  revel  and  feast  on  his  ill-gotten  prize. 

How  like  some  people,  thought  I,  is  the  hawk; 

For  often  the  best  and  fairest  in  talk, 

Forget  all  their  promises  fair  when  Fate 

Puts  into  their  power  the  small  or  the  great ; 

The  banker  is  weaving  a  net  in  his  den, 

Enticing  the  poor  unfortunate  in, 

And  when  fully  ripe  the  harvest  he  sows, 

The  merciful  banker  begins  to  foreclose ; 

The  doctor  looks  knowing  and  draws  down  his 

face, 
He  mutters   and   shakes   his   head,   "Very  bad 

case"; 
Then  drugs  the  poor  patient  to  render  him  ill, 

[108] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


By  any  means  striving  to  double  his  bill ; 
The  merchant  will  fish  for  a  poor  rustic  prize, 
Entices  him  in,  cheats  him  out  of  his  eyes, — 
While  grumbling  and  growling  at  money  he's 

lost, 

Makes  fifty  per  cent  while  "selling  at  cost." 
The  sly  lawyers  stand  at  the  poor  farmers'  backs, 
And  urge  on  the  quarrel,  impel  the  attacks ; 
And  ere  either  client  can  quite  understand, 
The  sly  lawyers  own  and  are  farming  their  land. 
In  every  profession  or  trade  'tis  the  same, 
This  life  is  a  squeezing,  a  freezing-out  game ; 
The  confidence  man  ever  winning  the  tricks, 
The   slow-plodding  Reuben  too  late,   when  he 

kicks ; 

And  when  I  see  people  so  pleasant  in  talk, 
I  think  of  the  mouse  and  the  merciless  hawk. 


[109] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  LEAF  AND  THE  TWIG 

SAID  a  little  leaf,  "Hold  me,  I  pray, 
The  wind  is  blowing  me  away ; 
My  strength  is  gone,  I  cannot  hold, 
The  wind  blows  strong,  the  wind  blows  cold; 
My  little  life  is  all  too  short, 
The  tempests  use  me  for  their  sport; 
If  I  should  fall  far,  far  below, 

Upon  the  cheerless,  barren  ground, 
And,  tossed  by  all  the  winds  that  blow, 
Hither  and  yon,  and  round  and  round, 
And  tumbled,  rolled  and  swept  about 
By  wanton  breezes,  while  they  shout 
In  fiendish  glee,  as  they  rush  by, — 
But  no,  I  do  not  want  to  die; 
Oh,  friendly  twig,  do  hold  me  fast, 
This  fearful  tempest  cannot  last/' 

"Peace,  little  leaf,"  the  twig  replied, 
"Why  tremble  so?    Your  mates  have  died ; 
Your  feeble  race  is  nearly  run, 
Your  day  of  life  is  nearly  done ; 
I  would  not  hold  you  if  I  could, 
I  could  not  hold  you  if  I  would ; 


[IIO] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Life  flows  but  slowly  in  my  veins ; 

The  earth  is  drear  and  dark  with  mud, 
The  icy  cold,  the  beating  rains, 

Have    touched    my   heart    and    chilled    my 

blood; 

A  million  comrades  strew  the  way; 
And  are  you  better  still  than  they  ? 
Why  should  you  fear,  for  millions  more 
Have  gone  the  selfsame  way  before ; 
You'll  not  be  missed,  there'll  be  no  grief 
Nor  tears  for  you,  my  little  leaf." 

We  mortals  may  a  lesson  draw, — 
A  fixed  regime,  a  natural  law ; 
How  great  soever  we  may  be, 

Or  think  ourselves,  we  all  must  die ; 
And,  like  the  leaf  upon  the  tree, 

When  we  in  Nature's  bosom  lie, 
We  are  not  missed,  the  world  moves  on, 
Nor  notes  our  absence  when  we're  gone. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


THE  BOOK  THAT  IS  MARKED 

1LOIVE  to  read  books,  the  old  or  the  new, 
Of  poetry,  fiction  or  art ; 
They're  friends  that  I  love,  they're  friends 

that  are  true, 

Their  friendship  will  never  depart; 
There  are  books  that  are  bad, — only  good  books 

are  friends, 

A  friend  of  mine  wisely  remarked ; 
And  the  choice  of  the  reading  still  largely  de- 
pends,— 
But  I  love  best  a  book  that  is  "marked." 

The  book  has  been  read  by  a  dear  friend  of  mine, 

With  pencil  in  hand,  and  obeyed 
The  impulse  to  cricicise,  scan,  interline, 

And  short,  penciled  comments  are  made; 
Choice    sentences    bracketed,    checked,     under- 
scored,— 

For  better  attainments  embarked ; 
I'm   a   lover  of  books   that   with   wisdom   are 
stored, 

But  I  love  best  the  book  that  is  "marked." 


[112] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


A 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE 

NCIENT  and  massive  and  still, 

A  relic  of  times  long  past, 
It  stands  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, 

A  beautiful  thing  to  the  last ; 
Scarred  by  the  storms  of  the  years, 

The  sun,  the  rain  and  the  snow ; 
A  subject  for  thought  and  for  tears, 

Made  tenantless  long  ago. 

Spectral  and  lonely  and  grim, 

Like  a  sentinel  of  the  years, 
Beckoning  blindly  for  him, 

And  the  past  that  never  appears ; 
Beckoning  sadly  for  him, 

The  tenant  of  long  ago, 
Who  left  in  the  twilight  dim, 

With  measured  steps  and  slow. 

Was  it  for  love  that  he  fled, 

For  fair  maiden,  fickle  and  gay  ? 
Or  was  it  ambition  that  led 

His  wandering  footsteps  away? 
But  no  mortal  ever  may  know 

What  flame  in  his  bosom  burned ; 
We  know  that  he  left  long  ago, 

He  left  and  never  returned. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


And  the  house  still  stands  on  the  hill, 

Alone  and  stately  and  tall, 
All  shrouded  in  mystery  still, 

Trap-doors,  secret  stairway,  and  all ; 
And  the  children  going  that  way, 

Pass  by  with  averted  glance, 
For  lost  spirits,  the  gossips  say, 

Dwell  in  the  deserted  old  manse. 

Silent  and  spectral  and  grim, 

Like  a  sentinel  of  the  years, 
Waiting  sadly  for  him, 

And  the  past  that  never  appears ; 
Beckoning  sadly  for  him, 

Whose  heart  with  some  secret  burned, 
Who  left  in  the  twilight  dim, 

Who  left  and  never  returned. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


"YAMHILL  AGAINST  THE  WORLD" 


A 


SAYING  of  the  early  days, 

Old  settlers  oft  recall ; 
A  common,  homely,  earnest  phrase, 

Four  words  express  it  all ; 
'Twas  first  employed  in  boastfulness, 

When  Oregon  was  young, 
In  her  far-famed  metropolis, 

By  some  brave  Yamhill  tongue ; 
Then  first  was  heard  the  famous  cry, 

In  bold  defiance  hurled, 
A  challenge  that  will  never  die, 

"Yamhill  against  the  world." 


Yamhill's  the  land  of  pretty  girls, 

And  big,  red  apples,  too; 
Where  many  a  sparkling  streamlet  purls, 

In  sunshine,  rain  and  dew; 
The  land  of  plenty,  fertile  soil, 

Oif  blooming  plains  and  vales, 
Where  to  reward  the  farmer's  toil, 

A  harvest  never  fails; 
A  land  of  heroes,  true  and  bold, 

With  freedom's  flag  unfurled, 
Who  dare  maintain  the  challenge  old, 

"Yamhill  against  the  world." 

[US] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Tis  said  the  great  men  of  the  State, 

At  least  a  major  part, 
Must  be  in  Yamhill  county  born, 

Or  there  must  get  their  start; 
The  saying,  too,  has  proven  true ; 

'Look  o'er  the  scroll  outspread, 
You'll  find  that  half  the  famous  few 

Are  Yamhill  born  or  bred ; 
She's  still  the  Eden  of  the  coast, 

Her  flag  is  never  furled ; 
Her  sons  maintain  her  ancient  boast, 

"Yamhill  against  the  world." 


M 


"SANTA  CLAUS" 

AMMA  says  that  Santa  Claus 

To  all  good  children  brings, 
Candy,  nuts,  and  sugar  plums, 
And  many  pretty  things. 

Papa  says  he  has  a  whip, 
Among  his  tops  and  toys, 

To  punish  naughty  little  girls, 
And  whip  bad  little  boys. 

I'd  like  to  see  old  Santa  Claus, 
For  I  have  not  been  bad, 

And  if  he'd  come  tonight  I'd  be 
A  very  happy  lad. 


[116] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


S 


SECRET  SORROWS 

OME  learned  man  has  wisely  said, 

If  in  the  secret  heart  you  look 
Of  e'en  your  greatest  enemy, 

And  read  it  as  an  open  book, — 
Read  the  sad  history  written  there, 

Where  hope  sends  not  a  cheering  ray, 
The  lines  of  sadness,  grief  and  care, 

Your  hate  will  vanish  and  decay. 


The  stoutest  heart  forgets  its  ire, 

The  heart  most  fraught  with  bitter  hate, 
To  read  the  silent  records  there, 

And  know  the  sadness  they  create ; 
For  deep  in  every  human  breast 

Are  sorrows  hid  from  human  eyes ; 
Life's  grandest  symphony  and  best, 

By  sorrow's  discord  fades  and  dies. 

Life's  secret  sorrows  none  can  know ; 

The  secret  grief  is  never  gone; 
The  breaking  heart  may  overflow 

In  tears,  and  yet  the  lips  smile  on ; 
Then  let  us  live  a  nobler  life ; 

Like  Mary,  choose  the  better  part, 
And  banish  hatred,  envy,  strife, 

While  love  and  kindness  fill  the  heart. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :     OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


L 


THE  SECRET  OF  HAPPINESS 

IFE  has  many  joys  and  pleasures, 

Many  bright  and  happy  hours, 
When  we're  walking  in  the  sunshine, 

O'er  a  pathway  strewn  with  flowers ; 
When  the  star  of  Hope  above  us, 

Shines  with  undiminished  ray, 
And  kind  words  from  friends  that  love  us, 

Cheer  us  on  our  lonely  way. 

But  each  life  must  have  its  trials, 

And  they  come  alike  to  all ; 
For  the  day  will  oft  be  cloudy, 

Ahd  the  rain  will  sometimes  fall ; 
Who  has  never  lost  a  loved  one? 

Who  is  ever  free  from  care? 
And  life's  bitter  disappointments 

Who  has  never  had  to  bear  ? 


There's  a  balm  for  wounded  spirits, 

Solace  for  each  troubled  breast ; 
There's  relief  for  deepest  sorrow, 

Succor  for  the  soul  distressed; 
It  is  found  in  ever  leaving 

Self  and  selfishness  behind, 
And  in  healing  others'  grieving, 

Doing  good  for  human  kind. 

[118] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


It  is  found  in  letting  sunlight 

Into  sunless,  clouded  lives, 
Where  a  kind  word,  kindly  spoken, 

Oft  the  fainting  heart  revives ; 
Where  a  sympathetic  answer 

Lightens  oft  a  heavy  load 
For  the  weary,  foot-sore  pilgrim, 

Toiling  on  life's  rugged  road. 

Though  thy  burdens  may  seem  heavy, 

Others'  are  yet  heavier  still; 
Therefore  leave  off  thy  complaining, 

Help  thy  brother  with  a  will ; 
Then  shall  grow  thy  pathway  brighter, 

Light  thy  heart,  at  peace  thy  mind ; 
For  in  making  others  happy, 

We  our  greatest  blessing  find. 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


THE  MAN  WHO  WOULDN'T  ADVERTISE 


T 


HERE  was  a  man  in  our  town, 

Who  wouldn't  advertise; 
He'd  paid  a  heap  of  money  down, 
To  pay  for  "printers'  lies." 


"My  trade  is  good  and  brisk,"  he  said, 

"I'm  not  a  lazy  drone ; 
I  have  a  pretty  level  head, 

Til  go  it  now  alone." 

But  when  he  ceased  to  advertise, 

His  trade  began  to  fall ; 
And  very  soon,  to  his  surprise, 

He  had  no  trade  at  all. 

He  feared  the  sheriff  soon  would  come, 

To  levy  on  his  stock, 
And  seize  upon  his  house  and  home, 

And  sell  them  at  the  block. 

So  when  he  saw  his  business  stop, 
With  all  his  might  and  main, 

He  ran  into  a  printing  shop, 
And  advertised  again. 

[120] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


O 


MAY 

F  all  the  months  that  crown  the  year, 

May  is  the  loveliest  one ; 
For  then  the  violets  are  here, 
And  then  the  grasses  reappear, 
Cheered  by  a  warming  sun. 


For  in  the  meadows,  on  the  hill, 

The  grass  is  growing  green; 
And  in  each  valley,  calm  and  still, 
And  by  each  gently  rippling  rill, 
Beautiful  flowers  are  seen. 

For  flowers  are  blooming  everywhere, 

On  each  hillside,  on  each  plain; 
The  sweet  perfume  and  fragrance  rare, 
Are  floating  on  the  balmy  air, 
Inspiring  the  birds'  refrain. 

For  birds  are  flitting  everywhere, 

And  singing  all  the  day; 
May  our  lives  be  as  free  from  care, 
And  may  we  find  the  world  as  fair, 

As  birds  in  merry  May. 


[121] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
OTHER   POEMS 


S 


LEAVING  THE  HOMESTEAD 

O  now  you're  going  to  leave  me,  John, 

And  your  dear  old  childhood  home ; 
May  prosperity  attend  you,  John, 
Wherever  you  may  roam. 


You've  labored  long  and  steady,  John, 

You've  been  a  faithful  son ; 
Through  thick  and  thin  you've  stayed  by  me,- 

But  now  you're  twenty-one. 

I  have  not  gold  to  give  you,  John, 

You  know  that  I  am  poor; 
But  you  have  that  that's  better  far, 

Than  gold  or  earthly  store. 

You  have  two  strong  and  sturdy  arms, 
You're  blessed  with  perfect  health; 

That's  better  far  than  station,  John, 
Better  than  rank  or  wealth. 

You've  prospects  fair  to  cheer  you,  John, 
With  flowers  your  path  is  spread ; 

You  have  long  life  before  you, 
And  a  bright  sky  overhead. 

[122] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


But  sunshine  fair  may  leave  you,  John, 

And  clouded  be  your  sky; 
And  cruel  winds  and  wintry  storms, 

Your  strength  and  courage  try. 

For  some  defeats  and  failures,  John, 

Must  in  each  life  appear; 
Each  must  some  misfortunes  have, 

Some  day  that's  dark  and  drear. 

Your  friends  may  then  desert  you,  John, 

For  then  is  friendship  tried ; 
Many  will  leave  you  to  your  fate, 

The  few  stand  by  your  side. 

Then  put  your  trust  in  One  above, 

Who  hears  our  faintest  cries ; 
He  in  his  love  will  bless  you,  John, 

His  friendship  never  dies. 

In  life's  broad  field  of  action,  John, 
Like  a  brave,  true  soldier  fight ; 

Defend  the  weak  and  lowly, 
Strike  boldly  for  the  right. 

Whate'er  you  do,  be  upright,  John, 

And  ne'er  from  duty  shirk ; 
Remember  that  an  honest  man, 

Is  God's  most  noble  work. 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


Whatever  your  lot,  be  cheerful,  John, 
Work  bravely  year  by  year ; 

And  blessings  will  your  efforts  crown, 
If  only  you  persevere. 

Where'er  you  go,  remember,  John, 
Those  who  for  you  would  die; 

Two  on  the  little  farm  at  home, 
Your  mother  dear,  and  I. 

May  God  be  with  and  bless  you,  John, 

Ne'er  let  you  go  astray, 
But  with  His  counsel  lead  you  on 

The  straight  and  narrow  way. 


A 


"SUCCESS" 

SAYING  we  all  have  heard, 
A  volume  of  thought  doth  express ; 

It  is  trite  and  true  every  word : — 
"There  is  nothing  succeeds  like  suc- 
cess." 


[124] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:  :  OTHER   POEMS  :  :: 


N 


A  SUMMER  DAY 

EATH  a  shady  tree,  on  a  summer  day, 
Dreaming,  I  loitered  the  hours  away; 
Musing  on  life,  as  it  is,  as  it  seems, 
While  a  murmuring  brook  kept  time  to 
my  dreams. 


Like  our  pilgrimage  here  is  a  summer  day, 
The  morning  is  childhood,  so  joyous  and  gay ; 
The  sun  mounts  the  heavens,  young  manhood  ap- 
pears,— 
Ambition's  bright  air-castles  fade  with  the  years. 

At  noon,  the  full  blaze  of  a  perfect  day 
Shines  over  the  world  in  life-giving  ray; 
Then  man  has  reached  manhood's  full  stature,  we 

find, 
With  powers  developed  in  body  and  mind. 

The  afternoon  comes,  old  age  follows  fast, 
The  lengthening  shadows  eastward  are  cast ; 
With  cane  or  with  crutches  his   footsteps  are 

stayed, 
And  contented  old  age  reclines  in  the  shade. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


The  sun  settles  brightly  and  sinks  in  the  west, 
But  his  rays  tint  the  twilight  a  cardinal  crest ; 
So  the  life  that  has  lived  as  perfect  a  day, 
As  brightly  and  silently  passes  away; 
Ajnd  the  rays  of  its  influence,  silent  and  grand, 
A  beautiful  twilight  reflect  o'er  the  land. 


TWILIGHT 

THE  shadows  are  lengthening  over  the  land, 
And    gathering   slowly   o'er   woodland 
and  lea, 
As  silently,  steadily,  spectral  and  grand, 

The  orb  of  day  sinks  in  the  Western  Sea; 
The  lingering  beams  of  the  dying  day, 

Are  tinting  the  tops  of  the  mountains  with 

light; 

The  last  rays  of  sunset  are  fading  away, 
And  silently  drawing  the  curtains  of  night. 

All  noises  are  hushed ;  the  frogs  do  not  croak ; 

The  cricket's  song  has  ceased  along  the  way; 
The  squirrel  sleeps  snugly  in  his  giant  oak, — 

He  rests  from  labor  at  the  close  of  day ; 
The  birds  have  hied  them  to  their  forest  halls, 

Each  slumbering  lightly  in  its  little  nest ; 
The  silence  deepens  as  the  darkness  falls, 

And  weary  Nature  calmly  takes  her  rest. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


THE  YEAR  OF  LIFE 

HE  little  boy,  in  life's  bright  morn, 

Dreams  fondly  of  the  day, 
When  he  will  be  to  manhood  grown, 

And  work,  instead  of  play; 
Builds  stately  castles  in  the  air, 

Forms  many  a  boyish  plan, — 
What  he  will  do,  what  he  will  be, 

When  he  becomes  a  man. 


Life  then  is  pleasure,  no  alloy 

To  mar  the  brow  of  youth ; 
The  way  seems  fair  and  sweet  with  flowers, 

Leading  in  paths  of  truth; 
No  clouds  arise,  no  sorrows  fall, 

The  world  is  light  and  merry; 
"Chill  penury"  is  still  unknown, — 

'Tis  life's  bright  February. 

At  sixteen  life  has  broader  grown, 

And  brings  an  April  day ; 
Though  fancy  takes  less  lofty  flights, 

Ambition  still  holds  sway; 
"Excelsior !"'  the  youth  exclaims, 

And  arms  him  for  the  strife; 
With  steady  step  he  upward  climbs 

The  rugged  way  of  life. 

[127] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER      POEMS      :      :      : 


At  twenty-eight  to  manhood  grown, 

Life's  June  has  followed  May, 
And,  one  by  one,  has  seen  his  bright 

Air  castles  fade  away; 
Yet  still  he  pushes  to  the  front, 

Says  proudly,  "I'm  a  man ; 
I'll  not  accomplish  all  I  dreamed, 

Yet  will  do  all  I  can." 

At  forty-eight,  and  middle  life, 

The  years  are  swiftly  flying; 
He  has  accomplished  what  he  dreamed, 

Or  failed  while  bravely  trying ; 
Tis  life's  September, — happy  homes, 

And  harvest  time,  and  plenty, 
Should  crown  the  work  of  earnest  men, 

Who  dreamed  vain  dreams  at  twenty. 

At  seventy  the  story's  told, 

And  life  is  nearly  ended; 
Success  has  crowned  his  earnest  work, 

Or  failure  has  attended ; 
And  looking  backward  o'er  the  way, 

The  fact  he  must  remember, 
His  head  is  covered  with  the  snow 

Of  life's  storm-swept  December. 


[128] 


STATUE  OF  CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  CLARK 
Portland,  Oregon 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


PRESS  ONWARD 

iHOUGH  angry  blasts  about  you  roar, 
And  breakers  dash  upon  the  shore, 
Though  dark  the  way,  and  storm-clouds 

lower, 

The  storm-clouds  might  be  darker  still, 
The  breakers  dash  with  sturdier  will, 
The  blasts  roar  louder  and  more  shrill, 
Press  onward. 


Though  poverty  may  chain  you  down, 
And  cold  and  hunger  darkly  frown, 
And  thorns  compose  your  regal  crown, — 
Remember,  brother,  keep  your  vow ; 
Though  poverty  may  curse  you  now, 
A  brighter  crown  shall  deck  your  brow, 
Press  onward. 

Though  friends  prove  false  and  foes  assail, 

Though  evil  over  good  prevail, 

And  every  earnest  effort  fail, 

Go  forward,  you  will  win  at  last; 
Then  nail  your  colors  to  the  mast, 
A  Friend  will  shield  you  from  the  blast, 
Press  onward. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


T 


OCTOBER 

HE  days  grow  shorter ;  o'er  the  land, 
The  brush  in  Niature's  fairy  hand 
Has  touched  the  forests  as  they  stand 

All  brown  and  sear; 
The  summer  time  has  come  and  past, 
The  autumn  leaves  are  falling  fast, 
And,  dressed  in  gray  and  gold,  at  last 

October's  here. 


The  nuts  are  gathered   from  the  wood, 

With  eager  care  for  winter  food ; 

The  groves,  where  sylvan  giants  stood, 

So  green  and  fair, 
Are  clad  in  autumn's  somber  gray, 
So  soon  to  fall  and  fade  away, 
And  leave  their  brawny  arms  to  sway 

All  brown  and  bare. 

The    luscious    fruit,    toil's    richest    fees, 
We've  gathered  from  the  orchard  trees, 
And,  like  the  far-famed  busy  bees, 

Our  winter  store 

We've  garnered  from  the  wood  and  field, 
A  plenteous  harvest,  bounteous  yield, 
From  want  and  cold  our  homes  to  shield, 

When  north  winds  roar. 

[130] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


PLAIN  DRUNK 

A  LAWYER  sat  in  his  prison  cell, 
And  gazed  at  the  vacant  wall ; 
Nor  thoughts  of  briefs,  or  arguments, 
Or  otherwise,  or  at  all. 

Said  lawyer  sat  with  a  vacant  stare, 

(A  handy  thing  to  keep; 
One  now  for  sale,  at  second  hand, 

As  good  as  new,  and  cheap.) 

And  vainly  trying  to  recall 
Just  who  he  was  and  where; 

And  why  he  could  not  even  think, 
And  nothing  do  but  stare. 

Said  lawyer  racked  with  sundry  pains, 

To-wit,  an  aching  head ; 
And  divers  lesser  pains  and  aches, 

About  his  body  spread. 

Some  friends  had  asked  him  in  to  drink 

Of  sundry  harmless  brews; 
Said  lawyer,  mentioned  heretofore, 

Said  friends  could  not  refuse. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


The  brews,  aforesaid,  being  mixed, 
Confused  said  "legal  light"; 

Whereas,  no  enemy  was  near, 
He  must  his  comrades  fight. 

Complaint  was  duly  made  and  filed, 
With  places,  dates  and  times, 

Charging  assault  and  battery, 
And  divers  other  crimes, 

Against  the  peace  and  dignity, 

And  honor  of  the  State, 
Contrary  to  the  statutes,  made 

For  those  who  dissipate. 

With  blackened  eye,  with  empty  purse, 

And  with  a  bitter  wail, 
The  sheriff  hurried  him  away, 

And  landed  him  in  jail. 

At  last  he  dimly  comprehends, 
With  bitter  smile  and  grim ; 

Whereas,  he  used  to  do  his  friends, 
His  friends  have  now  done  him. 

Said  lawyer  had  his  "day  in  court," 
His  fine  was  twenty  plunk; 

"Reduce  the  charge,"  His  Honor  said, 
"To  plain  and  simple  drunk." 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:  :  OTHER   POEMS  :  :  : 


Now,  therefore,  prays  said  lawyer, 

And  this  petition  sends : 
"Good  God,  give  me  my  enemies, 

And  save  me  from  my  friends." 


E 


MY  BABY 

YES  as  bright  as  any  star, 

Wealth  of  glorious  auburn  hair; 
Brow  as  light  as  fairies  are, 

Rosy  cheeks,  so  sweet  and  fair ; 
Lips  where  linger  pleasant  smiles, 
Little  heart  that  beats  so  true ; 
All  surrender  to  her  wiles, — 
And,  oh,  what  would  your  mother  do 
Without  her  precious  baby. 

In  his  goodness  to  us  here, 

In  the  fulness  of  his  love, 
Sent  our  lonely  hearts  to  cheer, 

By  the  Father  from  above; 
Precious  gift, — of  all  the  best 

In  the  Father's  power  to  give ; 
And  we  are  most  richly  blest, — 

And,  oh,  how  could  your  mother  live 
Without  her  darling  baby. 

[133] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :   OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


DOST 
Wh; 
n 


A  REPLY 

thou  love  me,  my  beloved?" 
Why  such  question  ask  of  me  ? 

Canst  not  see  my  very  being 
Is  absorbed  in  love  for  thee  ?  — 

Then  your  eyes  are  all  unseeing; 
Those  bright  eyes  of  limpid  hue  — 

Windows  of  a  pure  soul  beaming  ; 
My  darling,  if  I  love  not  true, 

Then  all  love  is  only  seeming. 

I  do  love  you,  my  beloved  ; 
And  I'll  love  you  aye  and  aye  ; 

Face  of  all  to  me  the  fairest, 
Heart  as  pure  as  light  of  day, 

Form  the  daintiest  and  rarest  ; 
When  you  sit  alone  without  me, 

Lost  in  fancy,  lightly  dreaming, 
Do  not,  darling,  do  not  doubt  me, 

Nor  believe  my  love  is  seeming. 

Remember,  whatever  may  betide, 
One  true  heart  for  you  is  beating, 

And  loves  you  more  than  all  beside,  — 
Love  will  ever  be  its  greeting  ; 


[134] 


NDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:  :  OTHER   POEMS  r  :  : 


My  darling,  doubt  not  love  of  mine, — 
May  will  follow  bleak  December ; 

As  I  cherish  love  of  thine, 

Believe  me  true,  and  e'er  remember, 

I  do  love  you,  my  beloved. 


N 


THE  PATTER  OF  THE  RAIN 

OTHING  else  can  soothe  my  senses 

Into  slumber  sound  and  deep ; 
Nothing  else  can  calm  my  spirits 

Into  deep  and  dreamless  sleep ; 
Nothing  else  can  clothe  my  being 

Bright  with  dreamland's  warp  and  woof, 
Like  the  patter  of  the  rain  drops, 

Like  the  rain  upon  the  roof. 

Nothing  else  can  ease  my  troubles, 

Or  the  cares  that  oft  depress ; 
Nothing  else  can  soothe  my  sorrows 

To  complete  forget  fulness ; 
Nothing  else  wields  half  the  magic — 

'Gainst  the  ills  of  life  a  proof — 
Of  the  patter  of  the  rain  drops, 

Of  the  rain  upon  the  roof. 

[135] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS:      :      : 


THE  OLD  YEAR  AND  THE  NEW 

FROM  valley  and  plain  and  river, 
The  brave  old  year  has  fled ; 
He  has  gone  from  us  forever, 

With  ages  past  and  dead ; 
The  New  Year  is  here  to  greet  us, 
And  gladly  his  face  we  behold ; 
We  welcome  with  joy  the  New  Year, 
And  sadly  we  part  from  the  old. 

Still  lies  the  snow  on  the  meadows, 

And  on  each  road  and  street ; 
And  sleigh-bells  merrily  jingling, 

Defy  the  snow  and  the  sleet ; 
The  New  Year  happiness  brings  us, 

Though  days  are  dreary  and  cold ; 
With  joy  we  welcome  the  New  Year, 

With  sorrow  we  part  from  the  old. 

What  pleasures  the  old  year  brought  us, 

Though  to  some  his  bearing  was  stern ; 
But  those  glad  days  have  departed, 

No  more,  alas,  to  return ; 
And  another  happy  New  Year, 

Speeds  on  the  lingering  view; 
Though  sadly  we  part  from  the  old  year, 

Gladly  we  welcome  the  new. 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


THE  FOOD  OF  THE  GODS 

rU  may  talk  of  your  blackberries,  apples 
or  pie, 
fou  may  praise  your  time-honored  Ken- 
tucky "old  rye," 
You  may  talk  of  plum  puddings,  so  dainty  and 

rare, 

Or  sweet  apple  dumplings,  fried  chicken  or  hare ; 
They're   all   of   them   good,   and   if  temptingly 

placed, 

Will  tickle  the  daintiest  epicure's  taste; 
But  strawberry  shortcake  is  better  by  odds, 
For  strawberry  shortcake's  the  food  of  the  gods. 

Now,  peaches  and  cream  is  an  excellent  dish, 
As  good  as  a  food-loving  mortal  could  wish ; 
And  cherry  pie,  too,  or  dish  of  wild  game, 
And  many  more  dishes  which  I  need  not  name ; 
But  the  dish  of  my  choice,  which  most  I  esteem, 
Is    strawberry     shortcake,     just     covered    with 

cream  ; 

For  of  all  earthly  dishes,  the  best  by  all  odds, 
Is  strawberry  shortcake,  the  food  of  the  gods. 


[137] 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:      :      :      OTHER       POEMS      :      :      : 


VACATION 

ACATION'S  here!"    I  hear  the  shout 
Of  boys  and  girls  from  school  let  out ; 
O'er  hill  and  vale,  from  far  and  near, 
The  echo  rings,  "Vacation's  here!" 
As  bounding  away  they  go. 


V 


With  hearts  as  light  and  free  as  air, 
Without  a  thought,  or  trace  of  care, 
They  laugh  and  shout  in  merry  glee, 
And  bound  along  with  spirits  free, 
As  homeward  away  they  go. 

They  have  no  thought  of  life's  rough  road, 
Of  thorny  way  or  heavy  load, 
But  leaving  burdens  all  behind, 
They  fling  their  troubles  to  the  wind, 
As  bounding  away  they  go. 

God  grant  that  they  may  ever  be 
As  free  from  care  and  misery ; 
May  they  as  happy  be  and  gay, 
As  free  from  rough  or  thorny  way, 
As  on  through  life  they  go. 


INDIAN        LEGENDS        AND 
:::OTHER       POEMS::: 


T 


WINTER  AND  DEATH 

HE  autumn  leaves  are  falling  fast, 
The  days  grow  bleak  and  chill ; 
The  dreary  rain,  in  angry  blast, 
Beats  on  the  window  sill. 


And  soon  the  winter  winds  will  blow, 
In  cold  and  chilling  breath, — 

Earth  covered  with  a  shroud  of  snow, 
Symbolical  of  death. 

The  autumn  of  my  life  is  here, 

And  swift  will  pass  away ; 
As  autumn  leaves  grow  brown  and  sere, 

My  hair  is  turning  gray. 

But  though  life's  winter  come  to  me, 

It  will  no  sadness  bring; 
The  winter  of  my  life  shall  be 

An  ever-present  spring. 


[139] 


INDIAN   LEGENDS   AND 
:   :   :  OTHER   POEMS   :   :   : 


G 


GOOD  NIGHT 

OOD  night,  my  darling  one,  good  night; 

Though  parting  gives  us  pain, 
Soon  will  return  the  morning  light, 
And  we  shall  meet  again. 


Say  not  good-by, — a  parting  word 

So  full  of  pain  and  grief, 
That  sweetest  words  nor  music  heard, 

Can  give  the  heart  relief. 

Say  not  good-by, — too  soon  the  day 
Speeds  to  the  bier,  the  knell, — 

Life's  thread  is  snapped,  and  we  must  say 
Good-by,  or  long  farewell. 

Good  night,  sweetheart ;  God  keep  you,  dear, 

Till  comes  the  morning  light ; 
Till  comes  the  time  we  need  not  hear 

Good-by,  nor  yet  good  night. 


[140] 


